The Dark Mage's Captive
by Canimal
Summary: "There are worse monsters out there than me. Perhaps you'd like me to introduce you to some?" Voldemort promised Hermione as a war prize to Antonin Dolohov for his bravery and loyalty following the Dark Lord's victory over Harry Potter. On the run for almost a year, when she is finally captured by the Death Eater she learns not everything in a postwar world is black or white.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This is a companion piece to_ **The Silver Mage's Captive** _. It can be read on its own, but feel free to check out the completed original._

 **Disclaimer** ** _:_** Unfortunately, I own nothing and can claim nothing from the Harry Potter Universe. All characters still belong to JK Rowling.

 **IMPORTANT – PLEASE READ**

 **It is my personal choice to not include trigger warnings at the beginning of chapters for a few reasons. Published books do not have them and I believe that they take away from the spontaneity and surprise of the story. (You read major character death and you spend the entire chapter or story wondering who it is and I feel it's distracting.) That being said, please understand that this story will have some dark elements. This is a story written for Mature audiences only. If you are not an adult, please do not continue.**

 **This story includes the following triggers so please be aware: death, murder, graphic violence, attempted non-con, miscarriage, mention of non-con, torture and sexual situations.**

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Chapter One

Two hundred and seventy-one days.

Two hundred and seventy-one days of paralyzing, gut-wrenching fear. Constant questioning of every decision she had ever made. Unending trepidation. She couldn't escape when she was asleep. Even her dreams were haunted. When she closed her eyes for even a moment, she was transported back to her beloved school.

Screams echoed around her. The smell of fire and sheer terror pervaded her nostrils. All she could see was Harry… her best friend lying dead in the Great Hall. Triumphant cheers and horrified shrieks were all around her. It was almost as if time stood still for hours as she processed what she was seeing in the front of her. Maniacal laughter, the kind she hoped to never hear again, broke the trance. In one swift movement she was wrapped up in a giant hand and moving out of the castle, out of the grounds and into the forest before her mind could register the cacophony of the resuming battle behind her.

One part of her would be eternally grateful for the kindness Hagrid's giant little brother showed her in the midst of the chaos. The rest of her wished he'd left her to fight and die with the rest of her loved ones and comrades. Grawp set her down in the darkest part of the Forbidden Forest before running back into the fray, screaming "Hagger! Hagger!" She knew that Hagrid's instructions to his brother to save her were likely the last he was able to give. She couldn't imagine Hagrid surviving after the battle picked back up. He was too big of a target. Too much of a Dumbledore and Potter man to be allowed to live in the new regime.

Somehow, Hermione Granger had been able to survive on her own for two hundred and seventy-one brutal days. Moments after coming to the realization that she was truly alone and the Battle for Hogwarts was truly lost, she knew she had to get as far away as she could as quickly as she could. She had been a target for the Ministry and the Death Eaters from Day One. She knew she could use the ensuing bedlam to put a great amount of distance between herself and the crumbling of the wizarding world as she had known and loved. Thankfully, she had kept hold of her beaded bag during all of the scrambling and dueling. Everything she needed was tucked away in her pocket.

She remembered a picturesque spot in the coastal village of Crackington Haven. Her parents took her there one summer where they spent an idyllic weekend tramping over the countryside and enjoying the beauty of Cornwall. It was the first place she thought of and her heart ached for her parents. They had been out of her life for less than a year, but it already felt like a lifetime had passed. She summoned the strength to set up the necessary wards and enchantments to keep her position secret in a beautiful spot on the high cliffs. Only after the tent was fully assembled and her protections were double and triple checked did she give herself permission to fall apart.

And fall apart she did… spectacularly. She cried for her friends. She cried for her parents. She cried for herself. She cried for the future. She cried out of fear. She cried out of anger. She cried for Harry, sweet, courageous Harry. She cried until her tear ducts burned and nothing further came out. She cried until her body was too exhausted to carry on. She cried herself into a sleep that lasted for days.

When Hermione finally woke up she wasn't sure what day it was. There wasn't really a way for her to find out without sneaking down into the village to find a newspaper, but she knew that wasn't a good idea. She had already lingered in the same place for far too long. It was dangerous. Hermione packed up the tent and the few belongings she removed from her bag before collapsing into the bunk however many days earlier. With a quick spell she removed all trace of magic still lingering in the air. She focused on another part of the country she once travelled to with her parents and disapparated.

And that is how she, despite all odds against her, managed to survive completely on her own for so long. Every couple of days she moved to another desolate part of her beautiful country and hid. There had been some close calls. One night she could hear a gang of snatchers just a few yards away. It was encouraging to find out that her protection spells were effective, but that evening huddled in fear at the mouth of her tent was the longest night of her life. Another time she almost came face to face with a couple of Death Eaters walking through a village she had snuck into for food. Thankfully a large group of shoppers crossed her path at the right moment and she was able to blend in the crowd. They never saw her.

Avoiding the wizarding world as much as humanly possible meant that Hermione had received very little news of what was happening now that the war was lost. Slipping into the Muggle world, she had been able to pick up on some strange news happening around the country, but nothing had revealed the fates of those closest to her. She had even taken to speaking out loud to Ron in hopes that he would be able to find her with the Deluminator that Dumbledore left him in his will. She desperately hoped that Ron had lost the magical gadget because the alternative was too much for her to bear. She hadn't seen or heard from a friend since the battle. For all she knew everyone in the Order and Dumbledore's Army was dead. She couldn't bear to dwell too much on that possibility.

Hermione found herself shivering inside her tent that cold January evening wishing she was just about anywhere else in the world. She had been able to move about the country without being caught, but she knew it would only be a matter of time before she slipped up again. Maybe leaving the country and heading somewhere warmer was what she needed. As she pulled the blankets on her cot around her tighter to banish as much of the cool Scottish air as she could, she found herself imagining what Australia must be like that time of year. _Probably bloody wonderful and warm_ , she thought. She was regretting setting up camp just outside of the city of Inverness. It was freezing and because of the large population nearby she was hesitant to use magic to keep warm. What wouldn't she have given at that moment for a friend to share their body warmth with?

She knew she didn't have enough blankets and could very well freeze to death if she stayed put. What a terribly ignoble way to go after all she had already been through. Hermione sat up from the bed and pulled the beaded bag out of her pocket. She pulled out the even smaller bag that contained the entirety of her life savings, much dwindled after almost two years of living rough. It wasn't going to last much longer at this rate, but she knew she needed to splurge a little on herself for a hot meal and a pint or two. Maybe a local would even take pity on her and pick up her tab.

She gathered everything up and began the arduous task of disassembling the tent. With repetition the act had gotten easier, but it was difficult to complete by herself. She had taken Ron and Harry for granted before. How she missed them!

Once the tent was packed up again inside her bag and the bag stowed away again in an inside pocket of her shirt, Hermione began to slowly take down the protections around the camp and cleanse the area of any trace of magical power. This part always made her nervous. She was never more vulnerable than when she was removing the enchantments. It would only take one person being there at the wrong time to muck it all up for her. Thankfully it seemed everyone else was snugged up inside their homes. She was alone.

The walk in to the outskirts of Inverness was not entirely private that evening, but she knew well enough how to keep her head down and how to draw as little attention to herself as possible. It was a skill she learned in school that she had often forgotten as she grew older. She was largely ignored, but to be safe, she wrapped her scarf firmly around her face. Her hair was fastened in a tight braid swinging down the middle of her back. It was her most recognizable feature so she kept it bound to attract less notice.

She was pleased to see a warm, lively pub not far from the edge of town. The lights beckoned to her to get out of the damp. She was grateful there hadn't been any snow yet. Being cold and wet was utterly unbearable. A group of young men were ahead of her at the door. The last held the door open for her with a wink. Any ordinary night and any ordinary girl she would've joined him as his warm smile invited her to. There was an empty place at the end of the bar near a roaring fireplace. She rushed to it before he had a chance to speak to her.

It wasn't much longer before Hermione had a steaming bowl of delicious soup in front of her and the best tasting pint of dark beer in her hand. She could almost feel her toes again. This was the warmest she had been in days. The crowd of people in the small area ordinarily would've made her feel claustrophobic and the air stuffy, but she relished in the crush. Even if they were all strangers and none of them knew she was on the run for her life, she couldn't get enough of the simple human interaction that she had taken for granted her entire life.

"Looks like you're a bit low on that one. Can I get you another?"

The man from the front door seated himself on the vacant stool next to her only moments after the previous occupant rose. He was charming and she loved his cocky, but sweet grin, but fear ran through Hermione's veins when he addressed her. She didn't want to be noticed. She wanted to fade into the background and be eternally overlooked. Why couldn't he bother the group of girls on the other side of the fireplace who seemed so desperate for his attention?

"No, thank you," she replied as politely as she could. "I was just about to leave actually."

"No, you can't leave so early. The night's just getting started."

Hermione attacked her remaining soup with a relish that even Ron would be proud of. She needed to get out of there as soon as possible, but couldn't afford to leave food behind. This had been the best meal she'd had in months. It would be a sin to waste.

"I can't let the prettiest girl in here leave without me at least trying to find out her name," Mr. Charming continued.

Despite her fear, Hermione found herself smiling at the compliment. She hadn't heard a kind word from anyone in months.

"Anna," she lied.

"Pleasure, Anna. My name's Ryan and I will take it as an insult if you don't let me buy you another."

She couldn't argue with him. Making a big scene and running out of the pub like a madwoman would only draw more unwanted attention to her. When the bartender handed her another full glass she began to drink it as fast as she could without seeming rude. Ryan didn't seem to be bothered by her short, one word answers to all his inquiries. He was a gregarious type who didn't really need another to continue a conversation. After several minutes, Hermione was annoyed and wanted to crawl back into her freezing bed alone. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave her alone either.

"I've never seen you around before, Anna," Ryan's voice began to carry. "Do you go to university here?"

Hermione felt a tightening in her stomach. Her companion was quickly turning from Mr. Charming to Mr. Drunkenly Obnoxious. They were generating stares from patrons all over the room.

"Thank you for the drink, Ryan," she said, dropping enough money in front of the bartender to pay for her meal. "But I really must be going."

Ryan caught her around the waist before she could rush past him. He pulled her to him, reminding her a little too much of Cormac McLaggen and sixth year. The stares only increased.

"Please, Ryan, I have to go." Her voice croaked with fear. There were too many people and she was too recognizable. She'd made a grave error coming out into public.

"Stay for just one more," Ryan begged, tightening his grip.

The door to the pub opened and Hermione's eyes went straight over Ryan's shoulder to view the newcomers. Two tall, dangerous looking men began surveying the room as they unwrapped their scarves from around their faces. Hermione gulped, thankful that Ryan stopped her from leaving when she did. Albert Runcorn and Antonin Dolohov were in the same pub. She would never forget either of their faces as long as she lived. Ryan's broad shoulders kept her partially hidden from either of their gazes. It was only a matter of time though. They weren't in for a quick bite and a pint. They were searching for someone.

"Shit, Ryan," Hermione whispered to the young man still holding her in his grasp. "My husband just walked in. He mustn't know I'm here."

Ryan turned around to view the two new patrons. Dolohov and Runcorn were facing away from him and missed his jerk in their direction.

"Which one's your husband?" he asked, mercifully lowering his own voice to a whisper first.

"The one in the black leather coat," she answered. Runcorn was the least objectionable of the two after all. At least ten years younger than the other wizard, he also lacked the insanity so present in Dolohov's eyes after more than a decade locked up in Azkaban with the dementors. If he hadn't always been so keen to imprison or execute her, Hermione might've even admitted that the Muggle-Born Registration Commission wizard was handsome.

"Looks like an arsehole."

"Oh, he is! Very jealous too. I must get out of here before he sees me."

Ryan didn't say another word. Just grabbed Hermione to his side and dragged her behind the bar. The bartender gave her a sympathetic look and never said a word about the two of them crouching on the floor under the taps. Jealous spouses must be part and parcel of his chosen profession.

"Excuse me, sirs," the bartender drawled. "Can I get you something?"

Dolohow and Runcorn approached the bar, seemingly unaware they were only inches from Harry Potter's best friend. Dolohov sneered at the man. Runcorn pulled a photograph from the inside of his black leather coat and held it up to the bartender.

"We are looking for this woman," Runcorn announced. "Have you seen her?"

When the man cut his eyes down to the floor where Hermione was hiding for a split second, her fears were confirmed. No doubt in her mind that she was the subject of the photograph in Runcorn's hand.

"She looks familiar," the bartender responded, dropping his eyes back to the clean glass he was drying. "We get lots of young ladies from the university in here."

"Has she been in here recently?"

Hermione held her breath certain that Runcorn could hear her heart beating from her hiding place. She was sure she was going to be discovered at any moment.

"Might've been in here before," the man behind the bar continued. "Hard to say really. Like I said earlier, we get lots of girls from the university in."

"Perhaps you could look a little closer," suggested Dolohov not even trying to hide his frustration in his voice.

Hermione silently begged the man to keep his eyes down on the glass. She was certain at least one of the wizards on the other side of the bar had some experience with legilimency. All it would take was a few seconds in the unsuspecting Muggle's mind to reveal her position on the floor.

"Is she in some kind of trouble?" he asked keeping his eyes down on the bar top. "You her family?"

"It's imperative that we find her," added Runcorn. "She _is_ in danger. My associate and I are here to make sure she gets home safely."

Hermione almost snorted aloud at the false assurance in Albert Runcorn's statement. All he cared about was getting her in front of a Ministry tribunal at best or Lord Voldemort at worst.

"I'll keep an eye out for her. You have a number I can ring?"

Runcorn handed him a white business card.

"Use that number if you see anyone come in here who looks like her."

Runcorn and Dolohov made one more sweep around the room scanning each face. Frustrated at not finding what they were looking for, the two wizards stormed outside in a fury. Hermione sighed in relief. She didn't know how they knew she'd been there, but she had never been more thankful for complete strangers. Ryan helped her to her feet and she saw the benevolent bartender rip Runcorn's card in half and then quarters. The pieces fluttered to the floor.

"I think you should get out of here as soon as possible, miss."

The bartender took the money she left for her meal and charitably placed it back in her hand. She could've cried from his generosity and kindness if she still wasn't terrified.

"I don't like the look of your husband," he continued. "Ry, take the lady out the back door. With any luck those men may still be out front."

"Thank you, sir. Thank you very much for your kindness." She did manage a few trickles of tears at that moment.

"Get you somewhere safe, please… and try to be more careful picking out your next husband, my dear."

Ryan led Hermione through the tiny kitchen behind the bar. A door to the alley promised her at least a chance at freedom. She slipped her hand into her pocket, reassuring herself that Bellatrix's horrible wand was still there. Ryan pushed the door open an inch to peer into the alley.

"Looks like they're still around front. I was afraid they would be expecting you to exit the back way."

Ryan's entire demeanor changed from the public room to the kitchen. He didn't even seem like he had been drinking. His eyes scanned the alley for a second time before beckoning her closer.

"Be careful out there," he whispered. "They've managed to place an anti-Apparition ward around Runcorn for about a mile. It's weak, but still effective."

Hermione stared at the young man in disbelief. She couldn't believe how calmly he was informing her that he knew of the danger she was in. How could he have known? Who was he? Ryan smiled at her confusion.

"Hufflepuff," he announced. "I had already left before you started, Hermione."

"How did you…?"

"Let's just say we have friends in common. Friends that care very much for your safety. I'm going back around to the front of the pub to get Runcorn's attention. Count to sixty after I leave. When you get to sixty, run as fast as you can out this door. Keep going left as much as you can. Do not turn around for anything, no matter what you hear. Try to disapparate as soon as you think you've gone a mile."

He took both of her hands in his and gave her a reassuring peck on the cheek. With the handsome smile she remembered from earlier in the evening, he ran out the kitchen door. She slipped the door open to wait the sixty seconds he requested. They were the longest sixty seconds of her life.

"Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty…"

She bolted through the back door and made a sharp left down the alley. At first she thought she made it out unnoticed. There was a commotion in front of the pub that she could hear even as the cold evening wind blew around her ears. She could hear several men and at least one woman shouting but couldn't make out a word they were saying. Keeping Ryan's words in mind, she ran as fast as she could without stopping to dwell on what was happening behind her.

"Someone's in the alley!"

The unmistakable sounds of heavy footfalls sounded behind Hermione. She didn't turn around to see who was coming after her. Every moment mattered and regardless of who was behind her, she knew their legs were longer than hers. It wouldn't take long to catch up to her.

"Stop running!"

She knew it was Dolohov behind her. His voice had haunted her nightmares since the Department of Mysteries. He had been so close to killing her that day. Her body still bore the scars he inflicted. Her terror spurred her on. She wasn't going to give in and let him take her again.

The alleys and sidewalks were slippery, but miraculously Hermione kept her footing as she ran. She'd never been a strong cross country runner, but it was amazing how a murderous madman behind her could motivate her to keep moving. A second set of running footsteps sounded behind her and she knew that whatever Ryan had tried to do to distract Runcorn failed. She hoped he was all right.

Every time Hermione came upon a left turn she took it in an effort to keep the wizards behind her disoriented. They had been reluctant up to that point to send any curses or jinxes her way, but she knew her luck wouldn't last much longer. Only the presence of ordinary Muggles walking through the city kept them from using magic on her. If they managed to keep up with her long enough for her make it to a less crowded area, she knew she would be in a full body bind before she could bring up a shield to protect herself. She kept running even when she feared she would never be able to breathe again. Her endurance surprised her. She had no idea how she was going to get at least a mile between her and Runcorn at this point. He was too fast and Dolohov was right there with him.

"You can't keep running forever, Granger!" Runcorn screamed at her. She didn't need to be reminded. She was already aware that she would be getting close to the end of her physical limits very soon.

She made another left turn at top speed to pass by a series of identical row houses with the same garden gate. Something inside her told her to just keep running a little bit further. Just a little bit further. When she passed the third house and was on her way to the fourth, her damned feet slipped on the slick ice. There was nothing to break her fall. She landed hard on her knees. Unable to keep from crying out due to the sudden pain, she knew that it was over.

Large hands were pulling her off of the icy ground. She was a bit surprised by how gently she was lifted off of the ground. Solid arms surrounded her waist. Hermione tried to be strong, tried to keep the tears from spilling out of her eyes, but she failed.

"I've got her, Albert," Dolohov shouted at the man still running towards them.

Runcorn almost slipped in the exact spot that Hermione had. At the last moment he was able to stop. He took several moments to slow his rapid breathing. Apparently running through the winter streets at top speed wasn't an activity he was prepared to undertake that evening. Both men were struggling to catch their breath even as Dolohov continued to keep his firm grip on Hermione's silently crying form. Runcorn waved his wand to shoot purple stars into the sky.

"What was that for?" Dolohov demanded.

"Just signaling the reporter assigned to this capture," the man explained. "The Minister wants a thorough report in the Daily Prophet of our capture of an Undesirable. Morale is a bit low at the moment."

 _Undesirable_? Hermione remembered how Harry was long considered Undesirable No 1 during the war. Had she replaced him as the most wanted? Or was she just one of many who was wanted by the Ministry? She'd had such little contact with the wizarding world following the Battle at Hogwarts that she couldn't be sure what was going on.

"It's freezing," Dolohov replied. "We can't leave her out here in the cold."

To say that Hermione was surprised that the Death Eater who almost succeeded in killing her in the Department of Mysteries was concerned that she wasn't warm enough standing in the middle of the icy street would be a gross understatement. She turned in his arms as much as he would allow to look the man in the eye. Part of her wondered if he was simply being ironic or making a poor joke at her expense. Why would he care whether she was warm or not? He was only going to take her to his Dark Lord for what she was certain would be a drawn out and painful execution.

"We have to take her to the Ministry first," Runcorn continued. "Her capture must be public knowledge."

"But the Dark Lord…"

"I _know_ what the Dark Lord promised you, Antonin, but we must follow protocol first."

Hermione couldn't suppress a shudder at Runcorn's words. What did Voldemort promise Dolohov? How was she involved? She was beyond terrified. She was about one hundred miles _past_ petrified. The two men ceased their conversation for a few minutes as they waited for the reporter to meet up with them. Hermione had a million questions, but her fear was such that she was certain she wouldn't even be able to form a coherent phrase. She wished Dolohov wasn't holding her against his body. It was too weird.

"Just a few for the Prophet," ordered Runcorn as soon as a stranger with a camera appeared on the sidewalk.

Hermione glared at the man wielding the camera. She couldn't believe how much her life had changed in just a few short hours. If she had a time turner, she would've gone back to the moment she decided she needed to leave her tent and slap herself across the face. She was safe inside her tent. No Death Eaters or Ministry stooges had been able to find her for almost nine months. What changed?

"That's enough," Dolohov shouted at the photographer after he took the seventh or eighth picture of him holding a frightened Hermione. "Surely you've got your bloody picture by now!"

The Death Eater had a reputation throughout the wizarding world of being a wizard no one should cross. It took only a single shout from Dolohov to send the photographer running. Hermione struggled to quash the sudden gratitude she had for the man still holding her close to his body. Almost the moment that the photographer disappeared, two intimidating men dressed in long robes approached the assembly. Hermione could tell at once that they were Aurors.

"We're here to take the prisoner, Runcorn," one of the men said.

She felt the tiniest bit of pressure increase around her midsection from Dolohov's arms. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he was reluctant to turn over his prize. No doubt he wanted to use her capture as a way to further his standings in his damned Dark Lord's esteem. The Auror who hadn't spoken yet reached out to place magic-suppressing handcuffs around Hermione's wrists. When they were connected, the Auror pulled her briskly out of Dolohov's arms.

"Easy, Antonin," Runcorn said when he witnessed the rage in the older man's dark brown eyes. "She has to be taken to the Ministry holding cells to await her trial…"

"But…" Dolohov attempted to argue but was cut off with a single raised hand of Runcorn's and a frustrated sigh.

"I know, Antonin. I _know_ , okay? I assure you that your request will be granted in the end. The Dark Lord has already made the orders."

Dolohov seemed mildly pacified that the response. Hermione, however, only grew more uncomfortable and suspicious. She felt like the men around her were speaking in a language she didn't understand. It was frustrating to say the least.

"Come, Miss Granger," the Auror finally spoke.

He yanked on the handcuffs around her wrist in such a harsh manner that she fell into his broad chest. The Auror wrapped his arms around her shoulders, turned in a circle and Disapparated them away from Inverness.

Hermione had always hated the experience of Side Along Apparition, especially when it was unexpected. She found her stomach churning when she and the Auror appeared in a darkened foyer in a building she'd been in twice before. Before the Auror could release his hold on her, Hermione vomited all over the marble floor. A bit splashed back to land on the Auror's arm.

"Bloody hell!"

He waved his wand to clean up the mess. The anger in his eyes couldn't be disguised. When his partner Apparated into the foyer, both men grabbed her by her upper arms to drag her down the corridor to one of the Ministry lifts. The three of them stood silently in the lift until it reached Level Eleven. Hermione was surprised that they were that far down in the building. She hadn't even been aware that there _was_ a Level Eleven.

Neither of the Aurors seemed eager to provide her with any information on what was about to happen to her. Even when she tried to ask a question she was firmly told to shut her fucking mouth. The doors to the lift opened to a dark, depressing level. She was dragged down a long hallway with dozens of doors. At the very end of the corridor stood an enormous metal door. One of the Aurors removed his wand from its holster to unlock the door.

Hermione expected something different. She wasn't sure exactly what, but she certainly didn't expect that the Ministry holding cells area would look exactly like every single Muggle police department she'd ever seen on television. The area even smelled like burnt, stale coffee and had mismatched plastic chairs scattered throughout the room. Two guards in their late twenties were seated at a desk near the cells playing a rousing game of Exploding Snap. It was obviously a quiet night.

"Oi! Look sharp," barked the Auror Hermione accidentally threw up on. "We've got an Undesirable here."

The men immediately dropped their cards and rose from their seats. Both had wide eyes as they peered across the room at the small woman flanked by two large men. They rushed across the room to take custody of the woman, their evening infinitely more exciting than they imagined it would be earlier in their shift.

"Put her in one of the High Security cells in the back. It should go without saying that she is a very important prisoner."

The handcuffs were removed from Hermione before she was quite literally shoved across the space into the waiting arms of the two guards. The Aurors wasted no time in exiting the room once their charge was passed out of their care.

"Undesirable, huh?" the blond haired guard said as he leered at Hermione. She didn't even want to imagine what was going on in his disgusting mind. "I wouldn't say so."

She didn't even try to suppress her shudder at his terrible attempt at a double entendre. The fat guard laughed at his partner's joke. They each took one of Hermione's arms in their hands and began to drag her to the back of the row of cells. A door to a small, almost empty cell flung open with the wave of one of their wands. They pushed her inside the room. The sound of the metal door slamming shut was perhaps the most frightening sound Hermione had ever heard before.

As soon as the guards were out of view, she curled up on the thin mattress in the corner and began to sob freely. This was her life now. At the mercy of officials who wanted her dead for no other reasons than the fact that she had Muggle parents and once upon a time had a best friend named Harry.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

 **June 18, 1996**

He could never respect an enemy that would allow children to fight their battles for them. There was no honor in fighting children. What could the old fool Dumbledore possibly be thinking to make it possible for six children to wander away from the grounds of the school where they were supposed to be kept safe to fight grown wizards at the Ministry? If Antonin was a parent at that school, he would've seriously been considering what possible steps would need to be taken to get the old man out of the Headmaster's office. This was just negligent!

But he couldn't deny he was impressed by their bravery, no matter how misguided it was. All Gryffindors surely. If there was ever a House that went out their way to commit ridiculously stupid acts to prove unnecessary courage, it was the damned House of Godric Gryffindor. Antonin was proud that he had been sorted into Ravenclaw over thirty years earlier. You wouldn't catch a Ravenclaw participating in a useless act of valor.

 _Or maybe I'm wrong_ , he thought when the light shined just enough on the pretty blonde girl's robes. She had the vacant, dreamy expression of someone who was about to enjoy an ice cream cone in the park before taking a long walk instead of a sacrificial lamb on their way to the slaughter. _Yes, definitely a Ravenclaw patch_. He couldn't help but be disappointed by a fellow member of his House for her obvious poor taste in friends and blatant disregard for her own arse.

From the time Antonin was marked by the Dark Lord when he was nineteen years old, he'd done a number of questionable missions and tasks on behalf of his master. No matter how many times he had to torture or murder a child, the bitter taste never went away. He would continue to cut short the life spans of promising young witches and wizards at his master's bequest, but he would never enjoy the task. Now, put a steel blade in his hands and toss a few filthy Muggles his direction, he wouldn't care how old they were. Muggle pups grow into full grown Muggles one day. Perhaps it was kinder to just cut them down when they were young. At least that way they could be assured of causing very little damage to the world around them.

Rabastan Lestrange fidgeted next to Antonin. They were standing next to each other to block off the row of prophecies on either side. Bastan always had an unhealthy love for the fresh-faced young witches. Even with their masks covering their faces, Antonin could practically smell the wizard next to him drooling over the three girls standing with Potter. Perhaps he was hoping that however this mission would end, he would get to take at least one of them with him to a dark, vacant corner. The thought disgusted Antonin. They were children! Yes, all three had the promise of great beauty when they grew older, but they were hardly out of their training brassieres. Absolutely nothing appealing about an illegal teenage girl in his opinion. The brunette with the wild hair _might_ be seventeen, but the redhead and the blonde were definitely underage. He tried to ignore the continued fidgeting next to him especially when he saw the younger wizard pull on his trousers to readjust himself when he thought no one was looking.

Antonin felt a modicum of respect for young Potter when he moved to stand in front of the small redheaded girl when Bellatrix announced that a bit of torture of the girl might persuade Potter to hand over the prophecy. Of course the girl had zero business being there in the first place. This time of year she should be shut up inside her common room preparing for her final exams, not about to face her premature death. Didn't these children understand that this was not a game?

All of the Death Eaters stood around impatiently as Lucius and Bellatrix argued and taunted the Potter boy for the prophecy. Antonin hoped that the prophecy was important enough to justify the murder of six teenagers. Despite Lucius' pretty words there was no way they were all just going to allow them to slink off even if Potter handed over the prophecy. Lucius loved to hear himself speak. He hadn't shut up since he was given the honor of leading the mission to the Department of Mysteries. Antonin wished he would just hurry up and get the prophecy so they could all go home. He had a date later that evening with a much younger witch whose flexibility was more than a little impressive.

" _REDUCTO_!"

The sudden shout of the spell and the resounding din of the shelves upon shelves of smashed prophecies surprised all of the Death Eaters from their bored stupor. Rabastan rushed forward in the dust and was promptly elbowed hard in the face by the Potter boy. All six of the children began running down row ninety-seven at top speed. Several delayed seconds later Antonin and the rest of his brothers-in-arms ran after the children. They'd closed the door behind them and sealed it with a spell. Lucius was furiously shouting orders to everyone in the chaos.

Antonin practically had to drag Jugson behind him through the door Lucius ordered them through. He didn't particularly care for his partner, but there wasn't time to argue. They pushed through their assigned door. No one was in the room. Antonin could hear shouting coming from next door.

"Be prepared with an Impediment jinx," Antonin ordered Jugson. The man really needed someone else to tie his shoes for him. He couldn't be expected to come up with a valid idea of his own.

Their patience was rewarded a few moments later when they saw three figures running towards the dark hallway. Antonin and Jugson took off running after the two boys and the bushy haired girl. The children ran into a dark room and slammed the door behind them. With a simple wave of his wand, Antonin was able to throw the door open with a single spell, stopping the chit of a girl in the middle of her attempt to seal the door once more.

" _IMPEDIMENTA_!" they cried together.

All three were immediately thrown off their feet. Potter was hurled into the stone wall smashing his head against it. The other boy disappeared on the floor after being thrown over a desk in the office. The brunette was knocked into a bookcase.

"WE'VE GOT HIM!" Antonin yelled to the other Death Eaters in the department, hoping his voice was loud enough to carry. "IN AN OFFICE OFF—"

 _"Silencio_!"

To say that Antonin was surprised by the mere girl silencing him with a spell would be a gross understatement. No one… _no one_ had been able to silence him since he was a young boy. His mother used to use that spell to her benefit. Others had tried before, but never been successful.

The Potter boy hit Jugson with a _Petrificus Totalus_. As the girl was temporarily distracted enough to congratulate her friend, Antonin struck her with a curse of his own making. It wouldn't be as effective considering he was forced to utter it non-verbally, but it was strong enough to do a great deal of damage. The young woman collapsed to the ground to the consternation of her partners. Potter rushed to her side while the other boy attempted to crawl to her from under the desk. Antonin kicked the boy in the head as hard as he could, breaking his wand and likely his nose and tooth or two. When Potter turned around to face Antonin, he removed his mask to look the boy in the eyes. He grinned at the terrified boy and attempted to convey to him that he would get just what the unconscious and likely dying, girl got if he didn't hand over the prophecy.

"Like you won't kill us all the moment I hand it over anyway!" Potter shouted.

 _How very astute, Mr. Potter_ , he thought. He raised his wand, but was temporarily distracted by Rabastan blundering in the room. The damned fool had somehow gotten his head stuck in something that turned his head into a baby's. Antonin shuddered at the unnerving sight. His moment of distraction was seized upon by the boy. Before he even had a chance to put up a basic shield to deflect the jinx, Antonin was falling on top of the prostrate Jugson unable to move.

Several minutes later they were freed from the indignity of the charm by one of the other Death Eaters who'd fared better against the damned teenagers than they had. Jugson and Antonin took off running towards the creepy stone room with the stone archway. He made his way towards the Potter boy, leering down at him, ready to murder him at the first opportunity if allowed. Lucius continued to beg the boy to turn over the prophecy next to him.

The children continued to resist. Antonin felt his stomach clench when crazy Bellatrix performed the Cruciatus Curse on the Longbottom boy. That woman was truly fucked up. She had been even when they were in school, but years of living in Azkaban affected her even more than they had Antonin. They were soon joined by five more at the top of the room. Five, damned bloody _adults_.

Antonin temporarily forgot his urge to hex the bollocks off the Potter boy as curses and hexes were shot in his direction. Several of them narrowly missed their target. Fucking Mad Eye Moody shot curse after curse in his direction. The old man certainly knew how to hold a grudge. It took several minutes and a few close calls, but Antonin was triumphant. The retired Auror collapsed to the ground. Antonin was only sorry that he was fairly certain the man wasn't dead yet. He turned his attention back to the teenagers.

" _Tarantallegra_!" The Longbottom boy began dancing around the room until he collapsed to the floor. "Now, Potter…"

He attempted to curse Potter in the same way he had with his little girlfriend, but the boy's shield charm deflected most of the curse.

" _Accio Proph_ —"

Antonin's attention was distracted once more by someone roughly knocking into his shoulder. _Fucking Sirius Black_. They began a furious duel in an attempt to dispatch the other. Antonin was certain he was getting the upper hand when the damned Potter brat struck him with _another_ Petrificus Totalus spell. He crashed to his back, unable to move while fucking Black cheered on the Nightmare-Who-Lived.

He spent the rest of what would become known as the Battle of the Department of Mysteries flat on his back unable to see what was happening. Dumbledore arrived to save his students and Antonin was shipped back off to Azkaban.

* * *

 **Azkaban**

It's easy to get used to the noise once a person spends any amount of time locked up in Azkaban. The screaming is constant. Someone in the building somewhere is always screaming or crying. If an inmate doesn't get used to the noise pretty soon after arrival, they're doomed. Getting past the _smell_ of the place is what is hardest. Antonin wasn't sure he ever grew used to the mixture of raw sewage, human body odor and despair. Not to mention whatever foul odor emanated off of the dementors. He didn't know what caused them to smell so badly and even his inquisitive mind didn't want to know.

Lucius was in the cell next to his. Unfortunately there was no privacy. He could see everything that happened in Lucius' cell and Lucius could see everything that happened in his. Not that he was worried. Antonin had fourteen years prior experience existing in the torture chamber without losing his mind completely. It was easy to tell that Lucius was soft. He wasn't going to make it long. The blond man cried throughout the night when he thought no one could see him.

Antonin _could_ see him and he hated his weakness. It was Lucius' fault that their mission failed. How bloody hard was it for _twelve_ fully grown and powerful wizards and witch to take on six children? It should've been their easiest mission yet. Steal the prophecy, murder the extras, and hand the Potter boy over to the Dark Lord. Lucius fucked it all up. He and his fucking titched sister-in-law. At least Bellatrix was able to escape the clutches of Azkaban. Of course another day or two locked up and she would finally lose it completely. That woman was a ticking time bomb.

"You're pathetic, Malfoy," Antonin hissed after about two weeks of listening to Lucius cry in the middle of the night. He was losing sleep and getting bloody sick of it.

"Fuck you!"

"Nope, sorry, mate. I haven't been locked up _that_ long," Antonin replied with a laugh. "You are very pretty though. Personally, I prefer brunettes with brains. Vapid blondes have never been my thing."

Lucius flipped over on his thin mattress to turn his back towards Antonin, leaving the dark haired wizard alone with his thoughts again. He hated that he was back in the Merlin-forsaken prison. His brief period of freedom hadn't lasted long enough. A dementor glided past his cell and his couldn't shake the shiver that came upon his entire body. Usually if he had some warning one was about to come past he could prepare himself. While he was still affected by their presence, he didn't have as much to lose on the outside that so many others had to worry about. Not like Lucius. There wasn't a beautiful woman and son waiting for Antonin on the mainland. He didn't have to worry about their safety or how they might be punished for his failures. Of course the realization that Antonin had no family or loved ones whatsoever did little to boost his moods. Made it harder for the dementors to suck out his happiness. He had very little to begin with. Growing up with pessimistic parents who naturally _expected_ life to be painful and miserable had given him a special set of mental skills to combat the feelings of hopelessness that the dementors bred amongst their prisoners. Antonin never expected to be happy so they could hardly suck that happiness from him, could they?

"You think that girl is dead?" Antonin asked.

"What?" Lucius demanded, turning back over to face him in the semi-darkness.

"That girl with the curly hair. Do you think I killed her?"

"Potter's Mudblood girlfriend? What do you care if you did or not?"

He couldn't really answer that question. For two weeks he had thought of little else when he found his mind wandering. She'd fascinated him as loathe as he was to admit it. Whatever her name was, she'd definitely made an impression. He knew that he struck her with the curse in an effort to end her life. Didn't stop him from feeling bad about it later. She had enormous potential. It'd be a shame if he snuffed it out too soon. Of course if she hung out with Potter she was likely to be in trouble more than once in the future if she'd survived.

"You develop a little crush on her or what?" Lucius mocked.

"Don't be ridiculous. She's a child. That's more Rabastan's and Walden's style."

"I do not know, Antonin. There was too much going on for me to care whether or not some worthless Mudblood got caught in the crossfire."

Lucius rolled back over and quickly fell asleep. Antonin lay up on his mattress for a little while longer replaying that night in the Department of Mysteries over and over again.

* * *

 **August 1, 1997**

Antonin lay down on the floor of the Malfoy drawing room and tried not to embarrass himself by sobbing. The aftershocks of the damned Cruciatus Curse coursed through his body. It would be days before he felt back to normal. Bellatrix had certainly been thorough in her nephew's instruction in the Unforgivables.

The evening came back to him in short flashes of memory following the torture. He and Thorfinn Rowle arriving in a bright Muggle café. The girl, no, _woman_ with the untamable brown curls that smelled of lavender. His head slamming into the hard ground. Coming to with no memory of why he was lying on the linoleum floor of a tacky café.

"Leave," ordered the Dark Lord. "I will summon you when I need you again."

Antonin was able to pull himself off of the hardwood floor with nothing but sheer determination. If the Dark Lord ordered him to do something, he did it. No questions asked. It was more than his life was worth to defy the Dark Lord. If he had two broken legs and a broken arm, he'd still be able to pull himself up and exit Malfoy Manor.

"Fucking Mudblood bitch!" hissed Thorfinn as he hobbled towards the gates that would take them away from the grounds of Lucius' estate. "I should've known that Granger was involved."

For whatever reason, the Dark Lord had Thorfinn tortured longer than he had Antonin. Maybe he took mercy on the older man's body. Thorfinn was a big, burly, massive wizard. He resembled those absurd Muggles who spent all of their time lifting heavy weights until they transformed their bodies into nothing but giant muscles. It was certainly a body type that drew many a young witch's eye as Antonin had witnessed personally over a pint or two at the Leaky.

"Granger?" Antonin asked.

"Yeah, fucking _Hermione_ Granger. You ever hear a more bizarre name? She's been a little know-it-all, pain-in-everyone's-side for years. I've always hated the little cunt."

"Did you have problems with her in school?"

Thorfinn rolled his eyes and sighed.

"She was several years behind me. I was a seventh year when she was a first. Even just one year was enough to get me to hate the girl. Once I was in the library, in one of the special study nooks in the back near the Restricted Section. I had a sixth year Ravenclaw with me and I was _teaching_ her the finer points of performing an adequate blow… well, you can imagine. Little bitch walks in on us and immediately starts screaming. The fucking librarian swoops down moments later, sees me with my pants down and sends me off to the Headmaster's office. I almost got expelled and that Ravenclaw never spoke to me again."

"That's it?" Antonin wasn't impressed. "You're holding a grudge because a twelve year old girl walked in on you receiving oral sex in the middle of the day in the library?"

"No, she also caught me with a fifth year Hufflepuff in the Astronomy Tower. That one was a little more shocking than the library. She would've reported me but I threatened her if she opened her mouth. And then once I was at the boathouse…"

Antonin held up a hand to stop the younger man.

"All right, I get it. She had a bad habit of interrupting you in _delicate_ situations."

"She's just a nosy bitch. I know that she was always trying to get me caught again after the library."

They continued their walk to the gates in silence. It had been an exhausting and humiliating night for both of them. There wasn't really any need to continue the discussion. When they reached the outside of the gates, Thorfinn turned to Antonin before he had a chance to Disapparate back to Rabastan's manor.

"Want to split a bottle of fire whiskey in Hogsmeade?"

Antonin shrugged his shoulders before agreeing. He didn't have anything to look forward to but a cold, empty bed. The whiskey might help with the aftershocks of pain or at least get him drunk enough to forget his solitude.

"I'm surprised we're still alive," Thorfinn said later that night when the bottle of whiskey was almost half empty. "Got to admit I didn't expect to leave Malfoy's house in one piece."

Antonin knocked back another glass. The wizard was still young enough to not fully understand the danger he was constantly in as an agent of the Dark Lord. Every time he was summoned even if he hadn't knowingly committed an error there was a possibility that he wouldn't live to see the next morning. It was part of being a Death Eater. Hadn't changed since before the First War.

"I can't believe the Mudblood cunt fucked with our minds like that!" Thorfinn practically shouted across the half empty barroom. Aberforth Dumbledore had fewer patrons in his filthy pub every day, but it was a place Antonin knew they'd be mostly alone. "No, I take that back. I _can_ believe it. I bet she has a history of fucking with other people's minds. Probably gets a sick joy out of removing memories from anyone who pisses her off."

Thorfinn filled up Antonin's glass and his own again. Despite his girth, it didn't seem to take much alcohol to get Rowle good and drunk. Or maybe his frustration and anger were intoxicating him just a bit more than the actual alcohol.

"I'd love to make her pay for that. I'd make her pay for days. Take her back to my flat. Tie her up. Yeah, I'd definitely enjoy paying her back."

Antonin felt a shudder take over his body and he knew it had nothing to do with the Cruciatus Curse. He didn't care for Thorfinn's graphic description on how he would get revenge for their terrible evening. It was crass and unnecessary. War was cruel, yes, but he didn't want to imagine the same girl he'd almost killed in the Ministry at the mercy of Thorfinn Rowle. He was _too_ cruel. Antonin excused himself soon after to return to his cold, empty bed, the scent of lavender still in his nose.

* * *

 **May 2, 1998**

Harry Potter was dead. _Dead_. It didn't seem real somehow. The Dark Lord was finally victorious and the war was over. Antonin was pleased that it was all over. Yes, he was aware that war or not, he was still in the command of the Dark Lord. He would continue to be called for missions and tasks as needed, but he hoped that since their side was triumphant he wouldn't be called as often.

He didn't want to admit to himself that he'd been looking for _her_ throughout the battle. It was insanity. She was Harry Potter's partner, likely his lover too. It was speculated throughout the troops that Hermione Granger was the brains behind their trio. When he was summoned to the school and learned that Harry Potter was inside, he was certain that she had to be there with him somewhere. He couldn't explain his fascination with the girl. She was young, excruciatingly so even. And a traitor. If her side didn't win the battle he knew that her life would be forfeit.

When the cheers erupted throughout the Great Hall with the final breath of Harry Potter, Antonin joined in the celebration but couldn't resist scanning the crowd. After several minutes he saw her standing in a corner of the Hall in complete shock. She wasn't even blinking. Simply staring at the lifeless body of her friend, boyfriend, whatever. Not even crying. There were those on the losing side who had begun sobbing immediately. She wasn't one.

It all happened so quickly that no one had time to react. The sixteen foot giant came bursting through the room. Everyone turned to stare at the creature, worried that even a small giant like him could cause some serious damage. All he did was pluck the frozen girl from her place in the Hall and take off running outside. Antonin watched it all happen, but didn't even think to move an inch until Walden started yelling and running outside after the giant. Part of him was pleased she got away and the other was angry that now he didn't know where she was.

The Dark Lord sent his Death Eaters around the castle grounds to round up the enemy combatants. Antonin stuck close to Thorfinn just in case they came across _her_. _Hermione_. To describe the grounds of the castle as chaotic would be accurate, but not quite strong enough. Most of the Order and those stupid kids who created the organization Dumbledore's Army knew they would be in serious danger if they stayed where they were. Many of them were using the pandemonium to slip out the castle doors. Antonin helped catch several of the Order members and several of the Hogsmeade residents before they could escape. With them harshly bound with magical ropes, he led them back to the Great Hall.

He felt physically ill by the sights that greeted him when he returned to the room he used to enjoy his meals as a student. It wasn't the first time he'd been a part of a conquering force. He knew the depravities that accompanied the end of a battle. Knowing didn't make _seeing_ any easier. Poor, screaming girls too young to be fighting in a war despite being legally of age were being assaulted on just about every surface he could see. Antonin felt his wand hand itch to curse the rutting pigs who were taking advantage of a defeated people. When he passed by the pretty blonde Ravenclaw with the eternally dreamy expression on her face shoved up against the wall with Amycus Carrow between her thighs, he almost threw up. If he could've murdered Amycus where he stood without his own life being ended, he would've done so in a moment. The girl caught his eyes and he feared he would never be able to sleep again without seeing her expression on the back of his eyelids.

The Dark Lord called for Molly Weasley to be brought forward to the dais where he was standing. Antonin couldn't help but admire the woman for her bravery. She showed no fear as she was dragged up to the front to face what everyone knew would be her final moments before her execution. Pity, really. It wasn't even as if anyone _but_ the Dark Lord would miss Bellatrix. She was a loose cannon that terrified everyone around her. Everyone knew that it was only a matter of time before she turned on everyone else.

"You dare to murder my most loyal servant?" The Dark Lord's voice carried across the room.

"Yes, I _dare_ ," Molly Weasley spat back. "I would do it over and over again to protect any of my children."

The Dark Lord raised his wand. With a simple incantation he'd used probably a hundred times in his existence, Mrs. Weasley crumpled to the floor, her defiant expression still splashed across her face. Travers and Mulciber were called forward to remove her body from his sight. He wanted her remains to be taken out near the greenhouses to be incinerated. There would be no formal burial for the woman. No funeral for her children to mourn her at. He called for the capture and execution of all members of the Weasley family. Considering she was known for having a plethora of children, Antonin knew it would take some time for them to find all of them. In the meantime, her husband was remanded to Azkaban to wait until the last of his children were executed before he met his own end. Antonin had never seen a man look as broken as Arthur Weasley.

When the Dark Lord called for Narcissa Malfoy to join him on the dais, the entire Hall went silent. Those of them who had been out in the Forbidden Forest when Potter arrived to confront the Dark Lord knew that she lied about Potter being alive. No one was quite sure why or to what purpose telling a bald faced lie to the most powerful wizard in the world served. All it seemed to Antonin was a swifter way to bring about her death.

"Lucius, Draco, please join us," the Dark Lord ordered.

The three members of the Malfoy family stood before their master. Only Narcissa was able to meet the Dark Lord in the eye. Like Molly Weasley, she was showing an immense amount of poise and strength. She refused to meet her demise with tears in her eyes. While he had never particularly cared for any member of that family, in that moment, Antonin had nothing but respect for Narcissa.

"You lied to me, Narcissa. I am not used to being lied to by those who claim they are my loyal servants. Why did you lie?"

The witch refused to answer the question. No doubt there was fear on her part of incriminating another member of her family with her answer. The Dark Lord pointed his wand in her direction and called out " _crucio_ ". She fell to the dais and writhed on the ground, struggling to not make a noise. When he lifted the curse he asked the question again. She stared him straight in the eye and refused to answer.

"Lucius, please loosen your wife's tongue."

There were few times that Antonin could actually admit to feeling sorry for Lucius Malfoy. Normally he was a poncy git who flitted around with his thousand galleon robes to stare down his nose at everyone else. Lucius looked almost grey that day. His face had lost all of its color. He stared into his wife's pleading eyes before hitting her with another round of the Cruciatus Curse. She continued to writhe on the floor for several minutes before the Dark Lord stopped him. Lucius was forced to repeat the curse on his wife countless times.

"Thank you, Lucius. Excellent job," the Dark Lord said. "Draco, please repeat your father's actions."

Draco Malfoy stared at his mother practically seizing on the floor with an expression of horror and disgust. It was obvious that he was weighing in his mind whether or not he could torture his own mother. His hesitation did not go unnoticed by the Dark Lord or indeed by any of the spectators gathered throughout the Great Hall.

"Come come, Draco, we do not have all day," the Dark Lord taunted.

Little Malfoy raised his wand and struck his mother. She still hadn't screamed even after countless sessions of the pain curse. Her resolve was firm. Finally, even her sheer determination couldn't keep Narcissa Malfoy from shattering the windows of the hall with her high-pitched shrieks. The unearthly sound frightened her son enough that he almost dropped his wand. The Dark Lord sighed loud enough for everyone to hear in the room.

"Lucius, please educate your son."

Narcissa's screams were replaced immediately with Draco's. His own father was torturing him in front of everyone. After only a minute or so that certainly felt much longer to the man and his son, the Dark Lord stopped him.

"I want your wife broken, Lucius. You and your son will alternate cursing Narcissa until she loses her mind."

Both men looked as if they wanted to argue, but how could they? If they didn't complete the task given to them by their master, their own lives would be worthless. He would simply call for the same actions to be repeated on them.

The Dark Lord turned to address those assembled in the room.

"I am very proud of all of you," he announced. "You have all shown me great loyalty. I wish to bestow some tokens of my gratitude on several of you."

Antonin met the Dark Lord's eyes. The serpentine wizard smiled the unnerving grin that made Antonin's skin crawl, but he stilled his facial expressions. It would not do for him to flinch.

"Antonin, please come forward."

He wasn't expecting any sort of token from the Dark Lord. All he had done was perform his duties during the battle as he was expected to. Antonin crossed the hall and fell to his knees at his master's feet. He placed an obedient kiss on the hem of his robes.

"Rise, Antonin," he ordered. "You cut down the werewolf and also defeated your former Head of House in a duel with fatal consequences. You have shown me great loyalty."

"I live to serve, my lord."

"What would you have me give you as a demonstration of my gratitude?"

Antonin thought about his answer for several moments. The screams of Narcissa Malfoy shocked him to reality and he thought of another woman who could be at the mercy of torture who didn't deserve it. Thorfinn was present in his periphery pushing a couple of members of Dumbledore's Army towards the anteroom next door.

"I want the Mudblood Granger."

His words surprised the Dark Lord momentarily. Antonin feared at first that his request would be met with a torture session of his own, but his master simply responded with a booming, maniacal cackle.

"Please repeat yourself, Antonin. I'm not sure that I understood."

"I want the Mudblood Granger. I wish to be allowed to seek her out and make her my captive."

"An unusual request, Antonin. What exactly do you wish to do with the girl?"

"I have plans."

He couldn't exactly explain that his plans included at the very least keeping her as far out of the clutches of Thorfinn Rowle as possible. Antonin hoped that the Dark Lord wouldn't ask for an elaboration on just what he wanted a worthless Mudblood for.

"Your request is granted, Antonin. You may use whatever resources you can to seek out Potter's Mudblood and take her for whatever _plans_ you have."

"Thank you, my Lord."

Antonin was immediately dismissed from the dais. Ignoring the continued shrieks from the area where the three Malfoys were still gathered, he navigated across the large room. Before he could exit the doors to the Entrance Hall, he caught a glimpse of Thorfinn Rowle glaring daggers in his direction.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

She didn't mean to fall asleep. Honestly she never expected to find any amount of rest in the tiny cell on the lowest level of the Ministry building. Her exhaustion the night before must have won out over the need to remain conscious of what was happening to her at all times. The bright sunlight streaming into the cell from her enchanted window woke her up some time before dawn. She was angry with herself for allowing her guard to drop even for a moment.

Hermione rose from the thin mattress on the floor to stand by the door to her cell. It was still very early in the morning. She could still hear the voices of the two guards from the night before. A shift change seemed to be taking place. Blond Guard was giving a report of the previous shift's highlights to a stern looking guard with a hideous walrus moustache.

"Undesirable Hermione Granger was left in our custody at approximately 11:47 last night by Auror Johnston and Auror Savage. Her wand was removed from her person by the aurors at the scene of her arrest. She was placed into high security cell number eleven," reported Blond Guard.

"Excellent!" exclaimed Walrus Guard. "I saw her picture in the Daily Prophet this morning and couldn't wait to come see her for myself. I assume you performed all of the required identity confirming spells?"

"Of course, sir," answered Fat Guard.

"Yes, sir. She fell asleep soon after arrival. We waited the required hour to allow for any polyjuice transformations before casting them," added Blond Guard.

"Great work!"

The guards from the previous evening walked back towards the cells for their quarterly hour inspection. Based on the complete lack of noise in the area, Hermione assumed she must be the sole prisoner in residence that day. Their footsteps grew closer to her cell. Not wanting to risk being forced into some tedious conversational exchange with the guards, Hermione threw herself back down on the mattress and pretended to still be asleep.

"You think they'll have her trial today?" Fat Guard asked.

"Probably. She's high priority after all," replied Blond Guard. "They're going to want to make an example of her. Not only was she Potter's best friend and probably his lover…"

Hermione cringed a little internally at the thought of ever being physically intimate with Harry. He was like her annoying little brother who never listened because he thought he knew best. There had _never_ been romantic feelings between them.

"… and she was the leader of Dumbledore's Army."

"I thought Potter was the leader."

"Figurehead. _She_ did all of the dirty work. My cousin Marietta testified in her own trial that Granger was the one pulling all the strings."

"I forgot about your cousin getting mixed up in all of the Dumbledore's Army mess," Fat Guard said. "How's she doing?"

"She's all right. Thankfully my aunt has a little bit of influence around here. She was able to convince the Senior Undersecretary that she was coerced into joining _and_ Granger cursed her when she tried to leave."

Hermione wasn't surprised at all to hear that Marietta Edgecombe had somehow managed to squirm her way out of trouble. She laughed a little thinking about the woman's face. The curse was set to last ten years if a counter curse wasn't found. Hermione wondered how much makeup the traitorous bitch was still applying to her face.

"Your cousin didn't end up in the Umbridge Home for Young Ladies, did she?" asked Fat Guard.

"Merlin, no! She spent a couple of days down here before she was released. She didn't have to go anywhere near that place."

Hermione couldn't deny her interest was piqued. What exactly was this Umbridge Home for Young Ladies? She'd never heard of it. She assumed it was something that had been invented while she was on the run and cut off from the rest of wizarding society.

"Is that where Granger will end up, you think?" Fat Guard asked.

"Don't be ridiculous! She's a Mudblood. Mudbloods aren't sent to the Umbridge Home. That place is only for purebloods and halfbloods. No, it's Azkaban for Granger."

Hermione knew her situation was dire, but to hear the guards mention Azkaban so casually upset her to no end. The wizard prison was a place of nightmares where no one who ever went in came back out unchanged. During her third year when dementors were posted outside the school grounds in an effort to recapture Sirius Black, she'd never gotten used to being around the creatures that sucked all happiness and joy out of their victims. Imagining a lifetime being constantly in their charge was overwhelming. She wouldn't be surprised if there were convicted criminals who went mad _before_ they stepped foot on the Unplottable island in the North Sea.

Uneventful hours passed that morning where nothing of any interest or excitement happened. Hermione began to feel like a caged lioness at the bloody zoo with all of the random guards and Ministry workers who made some excuse to stroll past her cell. By midmorning the staring, whispering and pointing was getting to her so much that she almost wished they'd hurry and throw her into Azkaban. At least then she might have a minute to herself now and again.

A final guest to her cell cemented her desire to be chucked away into the bowels of Azkaban and forgotten. Somehow Hermione had been able to fall back asleep for a couple of hours. She was woken harshly by a stream of water hitting her in the face. As she choked and sputtered she heard laughter just outside of the cell. Hermione jumped to her feet in one swift movement. A shield was thrown up against her body and she felt crushed up against the wall of her cell.

"Good morning, Miss Granger."

Dolores Umbridge stared down the end of her stubby wand into Hermione's surprised face. Other than the day she, Harry and Ron snuck into the Ministry under guise of polyjuice potion to steal the horcrux hanging around Umbridge's throat, Hermione hadn't been this close to the horrid woman since the day she led her into the Forbidden Forest to be attacked by the hostile centaur herd. Based on the fury present behind the unattractive woman's eyes, Dolores Umbridge had not forgotten Hermione's culpability in the single worst day of her life.

"We've been searching for you for a very long time," Umbridge continued. "Haven't made it easy on us."

"Is there any reason why I should've?" Hermione asked, surprising herself with her boldness. She _hated_ the woman standing in front of her. Part of her would always be disappointed that Dumbledore had a large enough heart and a refined sense of right and wrong to head out into the Forbidden Forest to rescue the horrid being.

"I see that time has not dulled your sharp tongue."

"And I see that time has not improved your sour face, dear Dolores."

A surprised snicker in the hallway was quickly stifled and a cough attempted to cover the slight. Hermione smirked at the group gathered outside her cell. She didn't need to be afraid of this woman anymore. House points couldn't be taken away. Detentions couldn't be given. Hermione was already headed to a future locked up in Azkaban. What could the squatty, toad-faced woman possibly do to her that was worse that losing her mind inside the notorious prison?  
" _Crucio_!"

Hermione collapsed to the ground, every single nerve ending in her body pulsating with the worst pain imaginable. For just a moment she forgot where she was and imagined herself back in Malfoy Manor on the wrong end of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand. She couldn't be sure how long the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic kept her under the highly illegal Unforgivable curse in front of a large crowd of people. It could've been seconds or days. Hermione couldn't focus on anything but the pain.

Finally after an eternity, Umbridge lowered her wand and Hermione could breathe again. She lay on the cold tile floor trying to focus on anything but the aftershocks of pain running through her entire body. Months of poor diet, extreme stress and little sleep had taken its toll on her physical form. She knew she would be in pain for days following the one dose of the Cruciatus Curse. If Umbridge decided to curse her again, she sincerely wasn't sure she'd be able to survive.

"Your trial will begin in an hour, girl," Umbridge spat. "I suggest you show the esteemed members of the Wizengamot a bit more respect than you've shown me. Otherwise they might decide that instead of a life sentence in Azkaban that the Kiss might be a more suitable punishment."

Umbridge turned on her heel to the leave the tiny cell. The moment the cell door slammed shut Hermione crawled back to her mattress, curled up into as small a ball as her sore and painful body would manage and burst into tears yet again. She never considered the Dementor's Kiss. If losing her mind was once her greatest fear, the Dementor's Kiss now reigned supreme in her mind of worst possible outcomes. The image of the person post-Kiss that Professor Snape had plastered on the wall of his Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom flashed before her eyes. There couldn't possibly be a more frightening demise.

She didn't fall back asleep. If there was even a tiny chance of a nap before her trial began, the residual pain from the curse prevented it. Hermione could feel every single muscle in her entire body burn and tense. The curse felt different this time around. _"You've got to mean it."_ Bellatrix hated her because she was a "filthy Mudblood" who was suspected of breaking into her Gringott's vault. Lestrange's Crucio hurt, but it was nothing compared to Umbridge's. That was all spite and pure hatred. Dolores' was _personal_.

"On your feet, Granger!" ordered an Auror some time later.

Hermione struggled to her feet. When she was taking too long, the unfamiliar wizard grasped her upper arm and yanked her up the rest of the way. She hissed at the pain, but the auror didn't seem bothered. Her wrists and ankles were bound with heavy chains. The auror dragged her out of the tiny cell. A second auror grabbed her other arm. A crowd of onlookers watched as she was removed from the holding cells area. Another curious crowd gathered in the corridor of Level Eleven. Hermione could hardly see two feet in front of her due to the sheer number of bright flashes going off in front of her eyes. It seemed that every photographer in Britain was suddenly interested in her trial.

She was taken into a private lift at the end of the corridor. No one was allowed inside but Hermione and the two aurors. She didn't recognize either of the men standing next to her. They didn't seem interested in introducing themselves either. When the lift rose a single level, Hermione was pulled roughly out by the larger of the two men. They led her through a plain door in an almost empty hallway.

The courtroom Hermione snuck into while disguised as Mafalda Hopkirk was just a bit more intimidating from the floor. She felt all fifty members of the council stare down at her with a mixture of disgust and interest. The aurors pulled her across the floor and pushed her roughly down into the accused's chair. Instantly the chains from around her wrists and ankles disappeared only to be replaced by the restraints on the chair itself. To say that she was frightened would be a gross understatement of facts. She could hardly breathe.

Minister for Magic Pius Thicknesse stared down at her from his elevated seat. He narrowed his eyes to examine her from across the room. His expression was one of intrigue, but not one of repugnance like what was coming off of Dolores Umbridge next to him. Hermione tried to calm herself by surveying the room for any familiar faces. None of the council members were friendly. Up in the public gallery where all of the reporters and other guests were assembled, the only familiar people she saw were witches and wizards she positively despised: Albert Runcorn, Lucius Malfoy, Marietta Edgecombe, and even an agitated Antonin Dolohov. He was dressed in rumpled clothing she was certain he'd been wearing the night before and if the dark circles under his eyes were any indication, he hadn't slept at all since she was ripped out of his arms. The intensity of his gaze unnerved her. He didn't remove his eyes from her for a single second. There was something about the agitated manner in which he held himself that both fascinated Hermione and alarmed her. Runcorn's words from the evening before ran through her mind as she found their eyes locking across the massive courtroom.

 _"I know, Antonin. I_ know _, okay? I assure you that your request will be granted in the end. The Dark Lord has already made the orders."_

She worried about the words a bit as the courtroom continued to fill up. What could Runcorn have meant? What orders had Voldemort made? What was Dolohov's request? Nothing the men said the night before made any sense. She looked back up in the gallery to see an angry Dolohov deep in conversation with another tall, blond wizard she didn't care much for. At that distance she could only imagine what Thorfinn Rowle was whispering into his fellow Death Eater's ear that made the older wizard look positively murderous. With a smirk on his face, Rowle turned his attention to the floor. He actually had the audacity to wink at her! Hermione's wand hand itched with the desire to _Obliviate_ the massive wizard again.

The session was brought to order by the Minister for Magic only moments later. His booming voice carried over the whispers of the assembled and called for silence. Thicknesse rose from his seat and with a quick _Sonorus_ charm to his throat the glorified show trial began.

"Hermione Jean Granger, you stand accused of Grave Crimes Against the Dark Lord including Aiding and abetting Harry Potter, a known Undesirable, Failure to register with the Muggle Born Commission and Theft of wand and powers from Witch or Wizard unknown. How do you plead?"

Before Hermione had a chance to even protest her guilt, Umbridge leaned over to whisper in the ear of the Minister. Her voice didn't carry to give the accused any hint of what their discussion centered around, but based on the sudden contracting of Thicknesse's eyes in her direction, Hermione was certain that it wasn't anything positive.

"Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Wizengamot, esteemed guests, it has been brought to my attention that the accused has already submitted a signed and sealed confession attesting to her guilt in all crimes."

A low rumble of whispers began to spread through the assembled gathering. This was certainly news to Hermione! She never once submitted any kind of confession to any atrocious crimes. Theft of wand and powers from witch or wizard unknown? That charge alone was preposterous! She'd never stolen powers from anyone and while the wand that she had in her possession the evening before _was_ technically stolen from Bellatrix Lestrange, her first wand was purchased from Ollivander's when she was eleven. He claimed that the wand chose her, not the other way around.

"Hermione Jean Granger, you are to be remanded to Azkaban Island where you will spend the rest of your natural life," pronounced Thicknesse. "Aurors, please take Miss Granger away."

Immediately the harsh hands of the aurors wrapped themselves around her upper arms. Her limbs were released from the bounds of the enchanted chair only to be wrapped back up in the chains she'd carried with her from her holding cell. She was dragged from the room in a matter of moments. The deafening noise of the courtroom inhabitants behind her followed her out into the corridor. She couldn't tell if they were shouts of celebration or of anger. Neither of the aurors said a word to her, simply drug her back down the almost empty corridor to another plain door.

The room held no furniture except for a single small table in the center of the tiny room. On top of the table was a dented tin can.

"Wha…"

She couldn't even get her question out before the larger of the two aurors knocked her in the face with a backhanded slap. Tasting blood in her mouth, Hermione didn't try again. Obviously she was not going to get any answers from these men. Both aurors placed their free hands not grasping her arms on the can. She was ordered to place her own on the can with them, the only words the two men spoke to her during the entire process. As the tin can began to glow blue, Hermione felt the uncomfortable pull behind her navel as the portkey became active.

Their feet landed inside a stone room with large uncovered windows showing the North Sea. She'd hoped to never step foot anywhere near the infamous fortress of Azkaban Prison, but unfortunately, her wishes were not to come true. Part of her hoped that this was all just a horrible dream that she was sure to wake up from any moment. _If this were all a dream, Hermione, you would've woken up in your dorm in Gryffindor Tower months ago. Get over it._

A terribly thin woman with sharp features was waiting for her arrival. Dressed in robes similar to the aurors who'd escorted her there, the female auror wasted no time on pleasantries or questions for her colleagues. Once Hermione was in the custody of the woman who reminded her of a starving vulture, the other aurors took the portkey back to the Ministry.

"Come," ordered the vulture.

Hermione didn't hesitate in following the orders. She could still feel the throbbing in her cheek from the slap and the pain from earlier when she was cursed by Umbridge was still present. Whatever it took to keep her suffering to a minimum she would do. The auror pushed her weakened body through a door in the back of the room. Hermione couldn't help but shiver at the freezing air that was blowing off of the sea through the open windows. It was still late January and her thin, practically threadbare Muggle clothing was doing nothing to keep her warm.

The second room was almost identical to the room with the portkey. Somehow she knew that most of the rooms within Azkaban were going to be as dank and depressingly plain as the stone room she found herself in. The auror pointed her wand at Hermione's shaking frame. With a nonverbal spell, Hermione gasped when every last stitch of clothing she had on was ripped from her body. She stood naked and freezing while the auror incinerated her only protection from the elements.

Hermione was too frightened to feel any shame or embarrassment. If the room had been properly warmed with heating charms, she might have had the sense to be the least bit mortified. Too many unknowns were flying through her already overactive imagination to be embarrassed. Once all traces of the offending clothes were removed, the auror conjured a large steel bucket. With absolutely no warning of what to expect, the woman tossed a bucket full of ice cold seawater onto Hermione's naked form. She stood in the middle of the room sputtering and shivering and willing herself not to burst into tears. The woman tossed Hermione a paper-thin nightgown that had to be at _least_ as old as its new owner. She wasted no time in pulling it on her still drenched body.

She followed the woman out into a corridor just on the other side of yet another plain door. Hermione wasn't given any shoes or socks, but wasn't naïve enough to request any. This was the world's most notorious prison. People died in it every single day. No one would care that she was shivering. The auror conjured a weak, horse-shaped patronus that immediately ran down the length of the corridor. Hermione silently followed the woman into the main section of the prison.

They climbed up three sets of crumbling, stone staircases before the vulture pushed open another door. From the moment Hermione arrived, she was struck by the thunderous noise that permeated the entire fortress. Screams and sobs could be heard from dozens of inmates. The sounds were almost inhuman in their power. She tried to ignore the din, but the further they walked down the corridor, the louder the noises became. They passed dozens of cell doors. Every single inmate Hermione passed was huddled in the corner of their cell completely ignoring the activity happening just outside their door. Every inmate was filthy with matted hair. She tried to forget how overpowering Sirius Black's disheveled appearance was the night she met him in the Shrieking Shack. She didn't want to imagine what over twelve years would do to a person within these walls.

At the very end of the long corridor the auror stopped at an empty cell. She waved her wand to vanish the bars. Hermione entered her new home without protest. Another wave of the wand and the bars reappeared. Her new surroundings were even more dismal than the holding cell she'd spent the previous day in. An even thinner mattress than the one she'd slept on the night before took up most of the floor space. At least there was a thin blanket. She wasted no time in lying down on the urine-, vomit- and fear-scented mattress. Once she pulled the holey blanket on top of herself, she huddled in the corner of the cell, praying to whatever deity might exist that she could warm up.

She remembered a conversation she once had with Sirius at Number Twelve one night when the escaped convict drank too much firewhiskey while they were the only occupants of the library. Usually he tried to prevent any questions about his years in Azkaban. Certainly he didn't care to willingly bring up the horrors he experienced in those years that he spent dying inside the fortress for a crime he never committed. That night was different.

 _"You know the worst part, 'Mione?" He asked, his words slurring. "It's not the noise. It's not the smells, though you cannot even begin to imagine how awful that place smells. It's the cold. In twelve years I don't think I was warm for a moment. Even in the summer, you freeze."_

 _He emptied another glass of the volatile liquid before throwing the glass into the ornate fireplace. The remaining drops of alcohol sputtered in the roaring fire._

 _"You can't imagine being that cold, Miney. Seeps into your bones and settles in your lungs. There's a reason why so many die of pneumonia. You can't have hope if you're cold. It breaks most of them in the end."_

She could certainly understand Sirius' words. In only ten minutes and without seeing a single dementor yet, she already felt no hope at all. She could only _hope_ that the end didn't take too long in getting there.

"Hermione?"

The whisper from the cell next to her was so quiet she thought she was imagining someone saying her name at first. It wasn't until the occupant of the other cell repeated her name three or four times that she realized it wasn't all in her head. Hermione rolled over on the smelly mattress. A filthy, bedraggled man with a matted beard stared at her through the bars that separated their individual spaces.

"It _is_ you!" he exclaimed, a smile crossing his face. "I thought I was dreaming when I saw you pass by."

She didn't know who he was. Even though the young man seemed excited to see her next door, she couldn't place his face. His hair was too long and he was just too grimy. She tried to focus on his dark blue eyes in hopes of some flash of recognition.

"Blimey, I guess I didn't know I looked that bad," he laughed, an unnatural sound in their environment. "Guess it's been awhile since you last saw me."

"Yes, it has been," she replied, still unsure who she was speaking to. He _seemed_ familiar. She shook her head and closed her eyes. The young man just laughed again at her reaction.

"Ernie," he said, filling in the blanks when she still seemed confused.

"Ernie!"

She jumped up from her mattress and crossed the tiny cell to where he was standing. If there had been enough space between the bars, she would've thrown her arms around the Hufflepuff. As it was she had to settle for slipping a single hand between the bars to pat his forearm. He smiled at the physical contact, patting her hand with his before she pulled it back through the bars.

"Rotten luck that we have to see each other again in these circumstances," Ernie MacMillan said with another smile. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he was using all of his available strength to keep up a positive front with his former classmate. Hermione could see the pain and the fear in his eyes. "I always hoped we could see each other again over a couple of pints at the Leaky. Maybe followed up with a romantic candlelit dinner."

He winked his beautiful, haunted blue eyes at her and she couldn't resist the urge to giggle. The moment the sound exited she shut her mouth. It didn't feel natural to be laughing with an old friend in the middle of Azkaban prison. Their lives had certainly changed in the previous nine months since they last saw each other at Hogwarts.

"How long have you been in here?" she asked, scared to know the answer.

Ernie exhaled a deep breath.

"Wish I could say that I just got here. Fought a good fight and didn't let anyone catch me for a long time, but I'm afraid they got me right after Anthony and Ron died."

The casual way that he blurted out Hermione's fear surprised the young witch. Her eyes widened at the confirmation of the fact that she had already known for months. Despite knowing that Ron didn't survive the battle on a subconscious level, hearing the actual words caused hot tears to escape from her eyes.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Hermione," Ernie said when he saw her cry. "Did you not know about Ron? Damn, that's right. He didn't die until after the giant took you out of the castle."

"It's okay, Ernie. I was pretty sure he died anyway."

"He and Tony were brave though," he added. "They tried to keep the fight going while the rest of us stood around unsure what to do. The rest of us just _stood_ there."

Tears dropped out of his eyes at the admission and he found he couldn't keep eye contact with the young woman any longer. His eyes dropped to the floor of his cell. Even his tone of voice changed as he continued to talk.

"It's all right, Ernie."

"No, it's not! We didn't do anything. Not when they started…"

He was reluctant to continue.

"Started what, Ernie?" Hermione wasn't entirely sure she wanted him to elaborate.

"After you left, Hermione, they started grabbing all of the girls who weren't fast enough to get away. Susie was _right_ next to me and I couldn't stop it. I just stood there frozen, terrified. That Rookwood arsehole pinned her down to the floor of the Great Hall. She was sobbing and I… I didn't do _anything_."

His entire face was wet with the bitter tears his admission brought forth. Hermione reached a hand through the bars again in an attempt to comfort the poor wizard, but he shrugged off her attempt. He didn't want comfort at that moment.

"When I realized, _really_ understood, what was happening to her, Thorfinn Rowle was pushing me into the room next door with ropes around my wrists. I failed her. _We_ failed all of those poor girls."

"What happened to them… _after_?" She didn't need the details of the moments following the loss of the battle. She knew enough history to know what those poor women experienced.

"They all came here with us for a little while," he explained. "Then about six months ago all of the young witches were taken out of here. We've heard rumors, but we don't really know. Susie's parents were thrown in here not long after she left. They were trying to get her out of prison and the Ministry didn't like it. They're down on the lowest level now in isolation."

"Do you know what the Umbridge Home for Young Ladies is, Ernie?"

He shook his head.

"No, I don't. You think that's where they took them?"

"Probably. I heard the guards in the Ministry talking about it this morning. Said that only halfbloods and purebloods go there. _Mudbloods_ like me end up here."

Before Ernie could respond to her use of the hated slur against herself, they both felt the sensation of a dementor approach. Hermione remembered the icy feeling climbing up her spine from the moment that the dementors stopped the Hogwarts Express in her third year. At the time, she hadn't really experienced anything like Harry or Ginny had to make the experience so traumatic. It mostly felt uncomfortable.

Screams began to sound down the corridor. Ernie looked up at Hermione with terrified eyes before he threw himself down on his own mattress, his hands covering his ears. She heard his shouts before the overwhelming despair overtook her for the first time since her arrival.

"I'm so sorry, Susie! I'm so sorry!" he screamed between his gut wrenching sobs. "I'm so sorry, baby!"

Hermione focused on her friend's sobs for just a moment before the dementor appeared before her own cell door. She could think of nothing else but the moment she watched Harry die. Her mind went back in time to the moment that she saw Harry's lifeless form on the floor of the Great Hall, screams echoing around her. The overwhelming emotions coupled with the agony she'd experienced earlier in the day on the other end of Umbridge's wand caused her to faint.

All hint of daylight was gone when Hermione opened her eyes again. She was shaking on the floor of her cell, but instead of it being because a dementor was attempting to remove all of her happiness, she was shaking because of the freezing air. Somehow she managed to force her aching and stiff joints to crawl over to her mattress. She snuggled up under the blanket in the corner of the cell. A dull pain settled over the back of her head. She reached back and felt a bump where her head hit the stone floor when she fainted.

Somehow she managed to fall asleep that night. Every few minutes a dementor would glide past her cell and every negative memory she ever had would flash through her mind. The screeches from her fellow inmates as they relived their own past pains interrupted her nightmares. By morning she was certain that she wouldn't survive much longer. How Sirius could've kept his sanity during twelve long years was beyond her. She hadn't even been there twenty four hours before she was convinced that she was losing her mind.

The sun was hardly in the sky when the vulture returned. One moment Hermione was trying to sleep on the mattress despite her constant shivering, the next the bars were gone and a sharp boot kicked her in the side.

"Get up, Granger!" the auror ordered.

Hermione carefully rose from the floor. She was unsteady on her feet. Ernie was staring at her through the bars.

"Where are you going, Hermione?" he asked, fear lacing each of his words.

"Quiet, Inmate!"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders in Ernie's direction. They kept eye contact with each other as long as possible. The auror wasn't satisfied with the speed in which Hermione was walking. She gripped her arm and pulled her down the long corridor. When they reached the door from the day before where she was doused in cold seawater, the auror pushed Hermione through the doorway with no hint of gentleness. Hermione crashed to the floor, hitting her elbows hard on the stone.

"Get up, Granger!" she shouted once more.

She didn't have the drive or the strength to pull herself up again. Hermione lay on the stones unable to move. Before she could feel the sharp kick from the auror that she expected, Hermione felt large, warm hands on her frame. A strong arm snaked its way under her knees and another wrapped itself around her waist. With hardly any effort, she was picked off the floor with a surprising tenderness. When her cheek brushed against a solid chest, she forced her tired eyes open. The dark brown eyes of Antonin Dolohov peered down to meet hers. She didn't even have the energy to be afraid of the Death Eater holding her tight in his arms.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

 **May 2, 1998**

 **Hogwarts**

Antonin took just a moment when his feet hit the ground outside of the castle to take a deep breath. The clear May afternoon was shaping up to be a hot one, but he would've traded over one hundred degree temperatures for the constant coolness that existed within the castle walls. Screams still echoed across the grounds from within the school. He could only imagine what fresh Hell the current occupants of the castle were experiencing while he headed towards the Forbidden Forest.

Tracking a giant was not a difficult task even for a wizard who had very little experience dealing with wild animals. This was usually an undertaking assigned to Walden Macnair. That man could track a fruit fly for miles if ordered to do so. If he was tracking anyone else, he might have asked the ex-executioner for assistance, but he knew better. Asking Macnair to assist him with tracking a beautiful, young woman was begging him to assault the girl when she was finally found. Macnair was not known for his self-control when it came to beautiful women. Or hell, even ugly women needed to fear the man.

The giant's footsteps were clear all the way across the grounds towards the forest. Antonin ignored all of the shouting around him. Combatants on the losing side were still being captured and rounded up by his brothers- and sisters-in-arms. He narrowly missed being hit by a stunner shot in his direction by Alecto Carrow. Antonin chose to believe that she was aiming for the young wizard who'd just crossed his path instead of exacting her own revenge for a rejection of her advances a few weeks earlier. He cringed at the memory of the Muggle Studies professor propositioning him after a large gathering at a Hosgmeade pub. There wasn't enough fire whiskey in the entire world to get him drunk enough to touch that witch.

"Macnair!" he shouted when he saw the wizard on the edge of the forest. "Did you see which way the giant went?"

Walden Macnair ran towards Antonin. He was covered in a fine sheen of perspiration and he looked more annoyed than Antonin had ever seen him before.

"Went right through the fucking trees, Dolohov! Took that little bitch with him," he answered. "Look at the birds flying above the trees though. He's coming back this way."

Flocks of birds shot up in the sky in an almost straight line towards the edge of the forest. Moments after Macnair pointed out the birds' behavior a sixteen foot giant came crashing through the trees screaming, "Hagger! Hagger!" Antonin had to jump out of the path of the gigantic feet to prevent himself from being trampled. When he saw the giant's hands were empty, he no longer cared what was happening outside of the forest. He waved his wand to mutter an incantation Walden once taught him when they were tracking a group of blood traitors through a dense forest.

Immediately the footsteps of the giant began to glow bright orange. He could see a trail headed back into the innards of the Forbidden Forest. While Macnair shouted curses at the giant and the giant responded with incoherent shouts of its own, Antonin ran as fast as he could along the trail of footprints. The sounds from the castle grounds began to fade behind him to become a distant memory. No animals met him on his trail which ordinarily might have concerned him, but in that moment, he didn't spare a thought for the dangerous creatures who called the forest home.

Twenty minutes of running brought him into a clearing in the trees. The footprints of the giant led him to the area before turning around and running back out towards the castle. Antonin scanned the area for any sign of Hermione. Much smaller footprints interrupted the giant glowing orange prints. He cancelled his charm on the giant's footprints to change it to the prints obviously belonging to the young witch. Small blue footprints glowed in the same area, but never left the clearing.

"Fuck!"

It was obvious that she wasted no time before she Disapparated from the area. With the busted wards from the earlier battle, she could've easily left the area without any struggle. The question became, however, _where_ would she go next? There was an entire world out there she could hide in. He didn't know the first place to start searching for the wayward witch. She could be anywhere and if he wasn't the first one to find her…

He shook his head to banish the thoughts that began to plague him. Not finding her would not be an option. He just had to think.

* * *

 **May 2, 1998**

 **London**

He Disapparated to the first place he could think of even though he didn't have much hope of finding her there. Night had already fallen by the time he approached the area where he knew the old Black family home was located. Following their attack on Thorfinn and him in the Muggle café in the early days of the war, Antonin was ordered to stand guard in Grimmauld Place to watch for any suspicious activity. Ministry records showed that Potter owned the house that was hidden at Number Twelve. For days he stood outside watching the area where he knew the house was magically hidden. Sometimes he had a partner to pass the time with, usually he was alone. Nothing happened until the day that the Ministry was infiltrated by Hermione and her friends. She inadvertently brought Yaxley with her to the top step of the house. Once the secret was revealed, Yaxley was able to bring in anyone he wished. They spent days combing every inch of the crumbling house for clues.

After taking a cursory glance around the area to ensure that no unsuspecting Muggles were watching his movements, he stepped closer to the enchanted house. Slowly Number Twelve expanded and came into view. He climbed the stairs, pushed the door open and slipped inside. There were no lights or any other signs of human activity within the molding walls of what must have once been a fine home.

" _Homenum Revelio!_ "

Nothing happened. Another dead end.

"Fuck!"

Antonin slammed his fist into the closest wall. The sharp pain brought just the tiniest bit of relief. He stared down at the blood dripping down his hand and cursed. _Where to now?_ She could quite literally be _anywhere_. Enough time had passed that if she had been able to catch a Muggle train or one of those metal birds, she could've been out of the country by then.

He flew out of the front door seconds after casting a quick healing charm to clear up the blood on his hands. There was another place she might go to in London. Back in the early days after they realized that after Yaxley arriving on the front steps meant that they would no longer use that house as their hideout, several Death Eaters were sent to another quiet Muggle neighborhood to stake out a comfortably large home belonging to two Muggle dentists. _Whatever that is_ , he thought at the time. Antonin was one that was sent to tear down any potential wards around the home.

The second house was every bit as dark as the first. No signs of life at all. A simple _Alohomora_ spell opened the creaking back door. The human presence revealing spell that had shown no life in the Blacks' old house revealed the same in this Muggle home. Antonin wandered through the ground level of the home looking for any indication that at some point in the past twelve hours Hermione Granger had returned to her parents' former home. It was strange to see that despite the numerous strange, static Muggle photos that adorned the walls and side tables, there wasn't a single photograph of the young witch he was searching for. Part of him worried that he had the wrong house. If it hadn't been the fact that the Dark Lord's informants were positive that this was _her_ old home, he would've walked right back out the back door convinced he made a mistake.

His feet carried him up the staircase. The sheer amount of dust that coated every surface in the house proved that no one had set foot in this domicile for quite some time. When he reached the top of the staircase, he felt the tiniest prick of magical trace coming from the end of the corridor. Out of habit, he held his wand in front of him, prepared for anything. In his experience as a Death Eater he had learned to expect the unexpected, as clichéd as it sounded.

There was a simple door at the end of the corridor that positively reeked of magic. Not the residual kind of that remained after a witch or wizard cast a spell at some point in the past. This was _active_ magic. The tingling on his forearms proved that there was still a spell on the door. He used his knowledge of curse breaking to determine that it wasn't anything dangerous. Just a simple Muggle-repelling charm. _Odd to have in a Muggle home_ , he thought.

The door wasn't even locked. Just warded against intrusive Muggles. Antonin pushed the door open gently to reveal the childhood bedroom of the woman he was searching for. He wasn't surprised by the light, lingering scent of lavender that assaulted his olfactory senses when he stepped inside. Nothing seemed out of place in the entire room. She was obviously a person that enjoyed order. He crossed the room to her bookshelves loaded with old school textbooks and Muggle novels.

The missing pictures he expected to be downstairs were piled up on her desk. He sifted through the photos that showed her growth from a newborn to a couple of pictures that must have been taken days before she went on the run with Potter and Weasley. He pocketed a still photo that showed her staring out a window downstairs with a serious expression on her face. It might come in handy later if he needed to ask Muggles if they'd seen her before. As he turned away from the desk a framed moving photograph caught his eye. She was trying to take a picture of herself holding the ugliest damn cat he'd ever seen in his life. The cat was swatting at the camera while she laughed just behind him. Antonin removed the photo from its frame before putting it in his pocket with the other.

Neither of her closets yielded anything of interest. Just simply old clothing that still smelled a bit like the lavender he'd come to associate with her. He passed by the desk once more before leaving. A stack of old postcards caught his eye. They were all of different locations throughout the United Kingdom. Obviously places that she'd visited before with her parents if the dates she'd scrawled on the back of each were any indication. If he were on the run again and completely alone, he'd likely go back to places he'd been before. Antonin shuffled through the stack looking for inspiration. One that showed high majestic cliffs off the coast of Cornwall stuck out. It was a good of place to start as any, he supposed.

* * *

 **May 3, 1998**

 **Crackington Haven**

Antonin spent the entire next day searching the cliffs for any sign of the young witch. A couple of times he could've sworn that he felt strong magics in the air, but he chalked it up to the natural magic that was present in the area. He would remember the area. It was too beautiful of a location to forget. Maybe one day when he had some peace he could find a quiet place near the coast to live out the rest of his days.

Unfortunately, his trip was for nothing. He sifted through the postcards to pick another place to visit at random.

* * *

 **January 28, 1999**

 **Lestrange Manor – Norfolk**

He'd been living with Rabastan Lestrange in his family's manor since they were broken out of Azkaban for the second time. Antonin protested in the beginning, but neither Rabastan nor his older brother Rodolphus would hear of him living anywhere else. They'd formed a kind of brotherhood with the other Death Eaters that hadn't run from the terror of Azkaban when their Dark Lord was defeated by the one year old Harry Potter so many years earlier. The Lestrange brothers refused to allow Antonin to run off to Merlin knew where to find a hovel not worth living in simply because his Gringotts vault had never been as deep as theirs.

It had been a convenience in the beginning. The longer he remained, however, the more he desired to leave. Following the blasting of the Dark Mark from Lucius Malfoy's arm after the torture and execution of his wife in the Great Hall and the permanent residence of the Dark Lord in Hogwarts Castle, the Lestrange Manor had become something of an unofficial Death Eater Headquarters. Rarely did a night pass that there weren't guests traipsing up and down the corridors of the massive home. Antonin preferred peace and quiet, not a residence where he frequently came upon an intoxicated Alecto Carrow when he least expected it. The bitch was relentless.

"What brings you to my humble manor home this evening, Lucius?" Rabastan asked when a small gathering of wizards sat down in the spacious study with a glass of fire whiskey each.

"Yeah, Malfoy. Why _are_ you here anyway?" added Walden. "Don't see you around much anymore. Not that I'm complaining."

The elder wizard laughed his atrocious rasping laugh to the general amusement of the other Death Eaters gathered in the room: Rabastan, Yaxley, Crabbe and Goyle. Lucius acted as if the open insult from Macnair wasn't as evident as it was. Antonin wished they would all go back to their own homes. He'd planned on having a quiet evening alone with a bottle of fire whiskey. His search had not been going well. Almost nine months and he hadn't turned over a single useful clue. She was likely dead or in another country by now.

"Do I require a reason to spend an evening with my old friends?" replied Lucius.

Antonin couldn't suppress a snort of derision in his glass at the words from the pompous ass. Malfoy wasn't fooling anyone. He was desperate for information. That's why he always attached himself to his former comrades despite no longer being entirely welcome within their social circles. What he needed information for, however, was the real question. Most of the others assumed that he was just trying to worm his way back into the Dark Lord's graces for his own selfish purposes. Antonin wasn't entirely sure. He'd never trusted the man. Spending the better part of a year in the cell next to him didn't help his distrust either.

"Have I done something to offend you, Antonin?" Lucius inquired as the attention of everyone in the room turned in his direction.

"Of course not, Lucius," he answered. "In order to offend me, you would first have to _matter_ to me."

He emptied his glass in a single swallow. While the liquid made its way down his throat and into his stomach, he enjoyed the expression on Malfoy's face. His silver grey eyes narrowed in his direction. Antonin could practically hear the insults the man wanted to spew in his direction, but because he was as far from the favor of the Dark Lord as possible without being actually dead, Lucius wasn't foolish enough to voice his insults aloud.

"Tell me, Antonin, any new developments in the search for the Mudblood?" Rabastan asked in an effort to turn the conversation away from potentially dangerous waters. Any good host understood the importance of keeping the bloodshed in his study down to an absolute minimum.

"Unfortunately, no," he answered before rising from his chair to refill his glass.

"We've been tracking all of the Undesirables through their wands," announced Yaxley. "It's been a fairly tedious process. Ollivander has been helping. Sadly we keep hitting dead ends. The Undesirables obviously are aware that they are being tracked because we haven't gotten any activity on any of the wands for quite some time."

"I assume there has been none on Miss Granger's wand," stated Lucius. He had a smug expression on his face that Antonin longed to hex off.

"No, there hasn't been," Yaxley replied. "Just yesterday, however, we were reminded that the Mudblood Granger stole Bellatrix's wand during that mess at your manor last year, Lucius."

The air in the room shifted perceptibly. None of the assembled men liked to think about the crazy bitch who died during the Battle for Hogwarts, especially not her two brothers-in-law. Both Lucius and Rabastan emptied their own glasses at the mention of her name. Even almost a year later she unnerved those who knew her best.

"We put a trace on Bellatrix's old wand. Hopefully the Mudblood hasn't found another untraceable wand to use in its place," Yaxley continued.

"What do you want the girl for anyway?" asked Goyle with a smirk on his ugly face that Antonin didn't appreciate.

"Not really any of your concern, Gary."

Antonin crossed back to his vacated seat closest to the fire. Knowing sneers and chuckles reverberated through the room amongst the other assembled wizards. He could imagine what they assumed he wanted her for. It's what they all would do with a captured young woman after all. He hadn't told anyone the truth as to why he requested Hermione. They would accuse him of being mad or even for being a traitor if anyone learned that the only plan he had was to do what he could to keep the witch safe. It didn't make sense even to him at times. Antonin allowed his mind to wander as he stared into the flickering flames in the fireplace.

The January evening was growing late. No one seemed to have any plans to leave any time soon. Antonin's plans for a quiet evening alone were completely shattered just a little after nine o'clock when a familiar face suddenly appeared in the fireplace.

"Antonin!" Runcorn shouted from the flames. "Is Antonin there?"

The wizard in question swallowed the remainder of his drink before lazily walking over the few feet to stand in front of the fireplace. All occupants of the room ceased their discussions to listen in on the conversation with the two wizards. Privacy wasn't exactly a benefit to Floo calls. Certainly none of the other men were going to give him the courtesy to excuse themselves from the room while they spoke.

"What is it, Albert?" Antonin asked, doing his best to ignore the others.

"There's been activity with Granger's wand. Meet me there in five minutes."

Albert's head disappeared from the flames with a pop. A portkey flew out of the flames and into Antonin's hands moments later. Antonin crossed the room to the entrance foyer. Knowing he would be entering a predominately Muggle area, he transfigured his cloak to an overcoat. While he was pulling it on, he saw Lucius sneak out the front door. The blond wizard didn't even attempt to wish the other man a good evening. Not that Antonin cared. He wouldn't mind if they never spoke again. He stepped out into the freezing night air. The walk to the outside gates passed quickly as thoughts of finally catching the elusive Miss Granger ran through his mind.

Runcorn was waiting for him. The younger wizard always seemed in a hurry. He didn't even try to hide the fact that he was annoyed with Antonin's tardiness regardless of the fact that only _six_ minutes had passed.

"Where is she?" Antonin asked, seeing nothing in the area indicating that she'd been anywhere in the area.

"I've scanned the area for any magical traces, but it looks like whoever was using her wand cleared out all traces. Smart."

Antonin checked the ground for any signs of footprints. If she'd Apparated out of the area, they would've been able to sense her magical trace. Everyone had a magical signature, not just the underage witches and wizards. A few feet from where they were standing he found small footprints in the frost. After scanning the area he found no others. Whomever was using Bellatrix's wand was alone. He remembered the spell he'd used to track the giant through the Forbidden Forest. In moments he and Albert were following the glowing blue footprints that only they could see right into the city.

They'd walked at least a mile or two before the footprints disappeared through a door. Neither of the men said a word to each other as they pushed open the front door to the pub. It was crowded. Both men scanned the room searching for the woman. Antonin couldn't hide his frustration when he didn't see a sign of Hermione anywhere. She _had_ to be there. If she'd entered the building and then walked right back out, they would've seen her footprints outside.

Several minutes later after getting absolutely no assistance from the bartender, Antonin and Albert walked back outside to the front of the pub to regroup. Albert wanted to stand out and wait for her to exit, but Antonin was certain that if she'd been inside when they were, there was no way she didn't see them. She'd be more likely to exit through the back door. Antonin kept his eyes on the alley behind the pub certain that he'd see movement out there soon enough. A drunk came stumbling out of the pub and almost knocked Antonin into the street. He sent the mildest stinging hex he could think of in the drunk's direction to get him away. In the seconds that it took to hex the man, a door to the back of the pub opened and a small figure ran in the opposite direction. Glowing blue footprints appeared in the alley. Antonin didn't hesitate to take off running after her.

He was beyond furious when he had to hand Hermione over to the aurors. Albert repeatedly tried to assure him that his wishes would be honored. The Dark Lord had already made it clear to the important Ministry officials that as soon as the capture of Undesirable Number Two was made public knowledge and a trial of some sort was conducted, Miss Granger was to be released into Antonin's custody. What happened to her after that no one really cared. All that mattered to the Minister for Magic was that the newspapers report that they were successful in capturing one of the rebels that had been plaguing their country since the war ended nine months earlier.

"The Wizengamot will meet for her trial some time tomorrow," Albert explained for what might have been the sixth or seventh time. "Once that's over, you can take her wherever you want."

* * *

 **January 29, 1999**

 **Ministry of Magic – London Headquarters**

Antonin hadn't slept for over twenty four hours. Once he handed Hermione over to the aurors he Apparated directly to London to wait for her eventual release. He'd been waiting in the Ministry for long hours before he was finally allowed into the courtroom where her trial was to take place early in the afternoon. Dozens of reporters and curious onlookers flooded the public gallery of the courtroom. His eagerness to enter the courtroom worked to his advantage. In what quickly became a standing room only area, he had a front row spot to watch as the trial unfolded.

It was just after two in the afternoon before the door on the floor of the courtroom opened. She was pushed into the space with heavy chains around her wrists and ankles that made him angry. This wasn't what he was promised! He couldn't stand the fear he could see in her eyes when the restraints on the damned chair closed around her delicate wrists. If there was anyone else in the room at that moment who could sympathize with the poor girl, it was him. Once upon a time he was seated in the same chair awaiting the news of how he could expect to spend the rest of his days.

"When I suggested that you catch the bitch and restrain her, I didn't mean to do it in front of the entire Wizengamot," laughed Thorfinn Rowle. "Never pegged you for much of an exhibitionist."

Antonin removed his eyes from Hermione for just a moment to glare at the young wizard. Rowle was excited by the prospect of the woman he still held a massive grudge against finally being caught. When the news broke that morning, Rowle made certain that he dropped all of his plans for the day to witness her trial firsthand. He continued to laugh at his little joke despite the waves of fury that were coming off of Antonin next to him. Thorfinn caught the eye of the girl on the floor and actually winked at her. It made Antonin very angry.

"Promise me that when you get tired of her that you invite me over, Antonin."

He refused to dignify Rowle's request with an answer. Thankfully the farce of trial began just a few moments later. Antonin couldn't keep his eyes off of the obviously terrified young woman. She didn't understand that this was all for show. She wasn't actually going to spend the rest of her life rotting away in Azkaban prison. Did anyone explain that to her? _Probably not_ , he thought. _She might request a one way ticket to the island if she knew I was the alternative._

The trial was over almost immediately after it began. Thorfinn's loud chuckles resonated in his ear. Lucius was on the other side of him lamenting the poor girl's bad luck as the aurors dragged her back out the door of the courtroom. Antonin turned to Albert who was just a few steps away.

"Not here, Antonin," Albert warned.

He followed Runcorn out of the throngs of people to a secluded corner of the corridor. Lucius Malfoy lingered just a bit too close to them to make Antonin comfortable. After shooting a murderous glare in Malfoy's direction, he waited until all potential eavesdroppers were out of the area before he asked Albert just what the fuck was going on.

"She will be taken to Azkaban," Albert answered.

"What?!"

Antonin's hands grasped the lapels of Albert's robes with a bit more ferocity than he originally intended. The younger wizard didn't let his discomfort shine through despite the fact that Antonin was a notoriously dangerous man with a short fuse.

"Why the _fuck_ is she headed to Azkaban, Albert? I was assured that once she had her fucking shame of a trial that she would be released to me."

He didn't want to imagine the poor girl inside Azkaban. That wasn't the place for her. It wasn't a place for anyone with the least amount of goodness.

"It's all protocol, Antonin. I told you that we had to follow protocol."

"You told me that she would be taken into custody to the Ministry and then after her sham of a trial she would be released to me. Nowhere did you mention she would have to go to Azkaban!"

Albert disengaged his lapels from Antonin's grasp. He refused to be intimidated by the Death Eater.

"I spoke with the Minister this morning. We will be able to remove her from Azkaban first thing in the morning."

He was angrier in that moment than he had been in a very long time. At no time was he told that she would have to spend a single second in the prison. It was a cruel punishment. He turned on his heel and headed towards the main lifts. Runcorn rushed after the man, sensing that he wasn't about to just let this all go without a fight.

"Where are you going, Antonin?" he demanded.

"I'm just going to have a little word with Pius. This is unacceptable."

* * *

 **January 30, 1999**

 **Azkaban Prison – North Sea**

In the end it turned out that Antonin didn't have a choice _but_ to wait until the next morning. Even after a private discussion with the current Minister for Magic he was assured that there would be no way to remove her from the prison until the next morning. No amount of arguing would change that. The prisoner must be remanded to Azkaban for the night.

Albert met Antonin at the entrance to the prison just as the sun was rising. Being back on the island where he had spent so much of his past was more than a little unnerving. If he had ultimate power like the Dark Lord, his first order of business would be to completely demolish the prison and release the dementors to the furthest corner of the world. It was the place that still haunted his nightmares.

"Fuck, Antonin. When was the last time you got some sleep?" Albert asked as they entered the front entrance.

Antonin refused to answer the question with anything other than a narrowing of his eyes and a quiet snarl. He couldn't remember the last time he slept through the entire night. Too much had been going on since the Dark Lord's victory. They had been building a new society within Wizarding Britain. And then in addition to his duties on the behalf of his master, he had been searching for _her_ ever since the final battle. Sleep was something that he found when he could. He never made it a priority.

"We're here for Granger," Albert announced to the extremely unattractive auror waiting inside the entrance. "You should have received your orders from Yaxley."

"Wait here," she replied.

He paced the room like a caged animal waiting for the woman to return. Albert wasn't the least bit uncomfortable by the experience. The wizard simply lowered himself into an available chair and waited patiently. Antonin hovered near the door the auror exited. Several long minutes passed. They were far enough away from the interior of the prison to not be as affected by the dementors and the despair of the unfortunate prisoners, but he knew he would not be able to relax for a moment in that hated place.

"How long is this going to take?" he demanded. Runcorn simply ignored his question.

The door finally opened. A thin woman was pushed into the room where she immediately fell hard to the stone floor. Antonin stared down at the young woman lying on the ground in the thin, prison-issued nightgown. He wanted to murder someone. How dare she be treated like some kind of common criminal?

"Get up, Granger!" the auror shouted.

She obviously didn't have the energy to pull herself up off the floor. Antonin stepped across the room in front of the auror before she could kick the girl. He had her off the ground and in his arms in moments. Hermione opened her eyes to stare into his, but didn't say a word.

"Are you all right?" he whispered to the young woman.

Her cheeks were flushed an unhealthy shade of red and her entire body was shaking. At first he assumed she was just freezing, but a quick brush of his hand across her forehead revealed that she was burning up with a high fever. Antonin set Hermione down in the chair that Albert vacated upon her arrival. He removed his cloak to wrap her shivering frame.

"She is burning up!" he yelled at the auror. "What happened to her?"

The auror was not a woman who could be easily intimidated even by a well-known Death Eater. She didn't seem bothered by his tone in the slightest. Antonin wanted to strangle her and might have done so if Albert hadn't stepped in his way.

"Just take her home, Antonin. I'll finish up with her discharge. She looks like she could use a warm bed and maybe a healer."

Antonin lifted Hermione back in his arms once more. The young witch didn't even seem to have the energy to be frightened by the fact that he was holding her again. Of course considering she'd just spent the night in Azkaban and was now obviously burning up with a high fever, maybe she wasn't entirely sure what was actually happening to her. With her clasped securely in his arms once more, Antonin turned on the spot to Disapparate them away from the hated prison. They landed just outside the gates of Lestrange Manor. Hermione was asleep before they were halfway up the drive.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Rabastan was waiting for his newest guest when Antonin arrived at the front door. Dressed in an exceptionally gaudy dressing gown and sipping a hot cup of tea, the owner of the massive manor stood behind his favorite house elf Rosie as she answered the door. He had had a permanent smirk on his face when it came to all discussions related to Hermione Granger since the day of the Battle for Hogwarts when his friend requested the woman as his prize. How he had enjoyed teasing the older wizard in the time since!

"Good morning, Antonin. I see you have finally captured your elusive prize," Rabastan greeted with a chuckle.

Antonin chose not to respond to the man's teasing. He was tired of being an object of ridicule amongst his fellow Death Eaters. They all found his impatience and frustration with the lack of details regarding Miss Granger's disappearance extremely entertaining. Rabastan and Walden frequently tried to get him to accompany them when they made their repeated visits to the Umbridge Home for Young Ladies. Gary and Vince would tease him and offer to take him "Mudblood hunting" for someone to bide his time with until his reward could be located. Thorfinn invited him to numerous pubs to drown his sorrows in the bottom of a whiskey bottle. He also used those opportunities to grill Antonin on what his final plans would be once he caught the woman and he offered many additional suggestions. And Alecto… _ugh_. He simply ignored her repeated advances on his person.

"Oh, no, Antonin! It looks like your treasured toy has been broken. She certainly doesn't look as if she will be up for playing with any time soon," Rabastan continued despite the obvious anger in the other man's eyes.

"She has a fever," Antonin replied. "I'm sure she will be all right soon."

Antonin ignored any further remarks that the master of the manor had for him as he headed up the stairs to his suite of rooms on the first floor. The young woman hadn't stirred since she fell asleep on the grounds. He could feel the heat radiating off of her skin even through his cloak still wrapped around her shivering body. Antonin pushed the door to his room open only to find an agitated little house elf waiting for him on the inside.

"Master Rabbie sent Rosie to take care of the young girl," she announced, snapping her fingers to levitate Hermione out of his arms.

He tried to grab the young woman, but the stubborn house elf already had her inside the expansive bathroom before Antonin had the sense to understand what she was trying to do. The house elf tried to close the door in his face. He blasted through the piece of wood much to the dismay of the house elf.

"Master Rabbie will not be pleased with you, Mr. Dolohov," she said, her tiny fists landing on her hips in an excellent imitation of his own mother. "You should repair that door immediately."

"I am not in the habit of taking orders from house elves, Rosie," he spat back. Favorite of Lestrange or not, he wouldn't be bossed around by an inferior creature!

"Rosie knows what to do. She's been taking care of sick Lestranges longer than you've been alive!"

They both stared at each other with narrowed eyes for several seconds as the young witch in question floated in the air above the bathtub completely oblivious to the standoff going on around her. Neither relented. Antonin refused to be ordered out of the room and the house elf refused to allow someone who wasn't even a member of _her_ family to tell her what to do against her own master's wishes.

"You stay over there, Mr. Dolohov," Rosie ordered. "The young miss needs a cool bath to bring her fever down."

Antonin made to cross the bathroom to help in some way, but the elf had the audacity to send a nonverbal shield charm in his direction! He could feel his blood pressure rising and he resolved that very soon he would find a suitable home of his own away from Rabastan's debauched remarks and his presumptuous elf. The sound of the taps on the bathtub turning on calmed him just a bit. At the very least it reminded Antonin that he was being selfish. If the elf could help the poor woman, who was he to stand in her way?

"There, there, young miss, Rosie will take care of you," Rosie crooned in the squeaky voice she'd used on ill Lestrange children for decades.

Rosie carefully removed Antonin's cloak from Hermione's body, using another nonverbal spell to send it shooting across the bathroom into his arms. When the house elf saw that the only item of clothing the woman had on was an abysmally thin nightgown emblazoned with the name of Azkaban Prison, she tutted and shook her head. Rosie glared in Antonin's direction as if he were the one responsible for her lack of suitable covering!

"Please turn around, Mr. Dolohov," Rosie ordered in a tone that dared him to argue with her.

Antonin rolled his eyes at the request, but did as she requested. He heard the sound of cheap fabric ripping followed by the sound of a quiet gasp from the elf. Before he could turn around to see what the elf was upset about, the sound of the sick woman being lowered gently into the cool water distracted him. There was a mirror placed in just the right spot that he could see everything that was happening without the elf being aware.

"What happened to this girl?" asked Rosie, poking Antonin hard in the ribs. He jumped at the unexpected contact. His eyes had been so focused on the woman lying under the water that he didn't notice the elf crossing the bathroom to stand behind him. "Where has she been?"

Antonin turned around to see the house elf in the same stance she had been in earlier with her tiny fists on her tiny hips. Despite having very large, wide eyes, she had them narrowed in his direction.

"I'm not sure," he answered, annoyed that the elf had the nerve to take such liberties with his person. Weren't they supposed to all be timid, frightened creatures afraid of their own shadows?

"Young miss is nothing but skin and bones! Rosie thinks it has been a long time since she had anything good to eat."

He felt his cheeks blush at the realization that from where he was standing in the bathroom he could see the outline of almost every single rib on Miss Granger's body. It was clear even to his untrained eyes that the young woman was in seriously bad health. What had happened to her in the past nine months to bring her to such a state? Had it been going on longer? There had been rumors that she was living rough with the Potter and Weasley boy through what should have been her final year at Hogwarts. When was the last time she had access to adequate food and shelter? The thought that she had been starving for months when she could've been living safely in his care made him angry. If only he'd caught her that day of the battle!

"No matter," Rosie said, crossing back to the bathtub. "Rosie will get young miss fattened back up again in no time. Master Rabbie ordered Rosie to make her well again and that is just what Rosie is going to do."

Antonin lowered his eyes from the mirror lest the house elf figure out that he had a perfect view of her bathing the sick woman in the large tub and force him to leave the bathroom with the same force she'd used on him earlier. He lowered himself down in a chair at one of the expansive vanities to wait for the elf to finish. Rosie ignored his very existence. She gently bathed Hermione in the lukewarm water while she spoke in the same soothing, squeaky voice she had earlier. If the creature hadn't been only about three feet tall with giant round eyes and the high shrill voice that was grating on his nerves, he could have almost imagined that she was his own mother back from the grave. Except his mum would not have stopped at the shield charm. She would've blasted him backwards out of the room and warded the door with more enchantments than even he could break. It was his lot in life to be surrounded by bossy, opinionated, powerful females. Species apparently didn't matter.

"She will be just fine, Mr. Dolohov," Rosie announced as she began to levitate Hermione out of the bathtub. The young witch had stirred only briefly after being lowered into the cool water. Rosie's tiny soft hands and soothing words calmed her immediately. "Just a little fever and Rosie can tell it's been a long time since she has had enough sleep or enough to eat. We'll take care of her, won't we, Mr. Dolohov?"

"Yes," he found himself answering. The little harridan of a house elf might have her uses, but he didn't plan on allowing her to boss him around in the future.

He watched Rosie spell on a warm pair of purple pajamas in the corner of his eye. Knowing she was fully dressed at that point, he rose from his chair to walk over to the levitating form. Already the slight color in her cheeks was returning. When Rosie moved to levitate Hermione out the door, Antonin stepped in to pull the floating body into his arms. Rosie shook her head at him and _tsked_ his actions, but once she realized he wasn't about to let her back out of his arms, she gave up. The elf pushed open the bathroom door to allow Antonin to carry Hermione out unimpeded. She then pulled back the bedcovers on Antonin's massive bed. With all of the gentleness he possessed that no one had ever associated with the man, he carefully lowered the sleeping woman into his own bed. She immediately rolled over to snuggle up with his pillow.

"Rosie will get some potions," the elf announced, snapping herself out of the room in a moment.

Antonin fumbled with the bedcovers to make sure that she was fully covered. Her shivering had subsided quite a bit following the bath. He brushed his hand across her cheeks and was pleased to feel a noticeable difference in her temperature already. She began to stir just a bit when his hand brushed her face prompting him to remove it immediately. He sat on the very edge of the bed to stare down at Hermione. It was still hard for him to believe that after nine months, a fake trial at the Ministry and the shortest Azkaban life sentence known to wizard kind, that she was actually there with him. Just inches away. Now that he had her, he was at a complete loss of what to do with her.

The quiet crack of Rosie's Apparition back into the room startled Antonin to the point that he almost fell off the edge of the bed. He rose to his feet, ignoring the tightening of the wide, round eyes of the elf. Her tiny arms were loaded with potion vials. With the simple look that begged him to argue with her once more, she was able to push the wizard away from the bed a few feet. Rosie cautiously emptied several vials of liquid into Hermione's sleeping form. The care she took and the ease with which she did it in proved her vast years of experience caring for her sick masters and mistresses.

"Rosie knows that it is not her place to criticize the guests of the master," the elf said, turning her wrinkled face to meet Antonin's. He rolled his eyes without even knowing what she was going to say. No doubt it was going to annoy him. "But Rosie thinks that Mr. Dolohov should really think about taking a shower and getting some sleep. He looks very tired and doesn't smell very nice."

He glowered at the house elf, but she didn't seem frightened in the slightest.

"If he is wanting to make a good impression with the young miss when she wakes up, that is not the right way to do it."

Antonin would've been offended by the little chit's words if she weren't a subservient being beneath his recognition.

"And Master Rabbie is having guests over for dinner tonight and he specifically requested that Mr. Dolohov join them."

He really didn't want to argue with the little creature anymore. Especially considering the fact that he knew she wasn't wrong. If he couldn't remember the last time that he'd had a proper night's sleep, he also wasn't entirely sure the last time he had a hot shower. Two nights ago? Three? Whichever it was, it was certainly too long. Without speaking another word to the miniscule nursemaid, Antonin returned to the bathroom to take his own shower.

Rosie was gone when he emerged from the bathroom a quarter of an hour later with dripping hair and steaming skin. Feeling uncharacteristically modest about the towel wrapped around his waist, Antonin took a quick peek over at the witch to make certain she was still asleep before passing the bed on the way to his dresser. Realizing that she no doubt was given an extremely high dose of sleeping potion, he didn't hesitate to drop the towel in the middle of the bedroom floor to pull on his own pajamas.

Once dressed and unable to stifle the broad yawns that were continuously escaping from his mouth, Antonin was at a loss as to where to go next. He couldn't exactly just slip under the covers next to the poor woman. What if she woke up a few hours from now to find herself in a strange bed with a known Death Eater who once tried to kill her? He didn't want to be responsible for terrifying the woman to death when she had only just arrived. Rosie hadn't left the room without making certain that the fireplace was lit with a roaring fire. A quick transfiguration spell on the sofa in front of the fireplace elongated the piece of furniture just enough to accommodate his long legs. He removed a spare pillow from the unoccupied side of the bed and found an extra blanket in the closet. It didn't take him long at all to fall deeply asleep once he was finally able to get comfortable on the sofa.

* * *

A sharp poke in his ribs several hours later woke Antonin with an unpleasant jolt. He jumped up from his lounging position so abruptly at the intrusion that his feet tangled in the blanket covering his body. If the damned elf hadn't cast a cushioning charm on him at the last second, he would've fallen flat on his face on the floor. Antonin glared down at the intrusive elf. It would be worth it to move out of the manor alone to get away from the bossy little she-devil.

"Master Rabbie sent Rosie to check on young miss and to make sure that Mr. Dolohov will be ready for dinner in half an hour. Master Rabbie says that he has several guests coming and 'under no circumstances is he to hide himself away upstairs while I have to deal with the buggering shites alone'. Rosie thinks that was exactly what Master Rabbie said."

"Fine," Antonin grumbled.

He didn't want to entertain a bunch of Rabastan's guests for an evening after the past few days he'd experienced. Even if he wasn't able to sleep in his own bed, he was perfectly comfortable on the sofa. Left to his own devices he could've easily slept until morning if he hadn't been so rudely awoken. Unfortunately he didn't always have many choices on what he could and could not do within Lestrange's manor. As a guest he was still required to jump when the master told him to. It was infuriating and he missed the days before Rodolphus disappeared. The elder Lestrange brother and rightful heir to the manor had been missing since the early days of the war. His late wife gave him up for dead quickly, but Antonin wasn't entirely certain that the wizard wasn't just biding his time on some tropical island somewhere in the south Pacific waiting for the day when his wife _and_ the Dark Lord were no longer alive. He got the feeling that if that day ever came, it wouldn't be long before the rightful heir suddenly appeared back on the doorstep ready to take his birthright back from his little brother.

Rosie was examining the young witch while Antonin searched for appropriate clothing for another boring dinner party. He hoped that Rabastan wasn't inviting anyone particularly important because he did not feel in the mood for the itchy formal robes he would be asked to wear. Of course he had no doubt that if dress robes were required that the nosy little elf would've already said so and probably already picked them out for him. Her attention, however, was firmly on Miss Granger. The young woman was still very much asleep, but even across the room Antonin could see a marked improvement in her countenance even from just a few hours earlier. Rosie checked her temperature, found it just a tiny bit high, but declared her much improved nonetheless.

"She just needs some more sleeping potion and she will be fine," Rosie announced. "Most of young miss's problems is because she's tired and needs to eat."

Antonin rolled his eyes from the confines of his large closet. While he was exceedingly thankful that there didn't seem to be any serious issues with his new captive, he was growing rather weary of listening to the elf repeat her diagnoses over and over again. It didn't take a certified healer from St. Mungo's to figure out that the girl was starving and exhausted. She'd been on the run and alone for the better part of a year. The fact that she wasn't dead attested to her strong will for survival. One night in the confines of Azkaban wasn't likely to snuff her out.

"Rosie thinks that Mr. Dolohov looks very nice in the dark blue robes," the house elf called across the room when she decided that he had spent too long searching for the right articles of clothing to wear.

Half past eight that evening found Antonin seated at the formal dining table in his damned dark blue robes with an uncommonly large glass of red wine in his hand and a prominent sneer on his face. Lucius Malfoy sat across the table from him with the almost identical expression on his face. When Antonin finally descended the stairs ten minutes late for the start of dinner, he was more than a little angry to find the blond wizard had been invited to share the evening meal. Lucius wasn't the only guest, of course, but certainly the least desired.

"Rabastan was telling us earlier that you finally got your little prize under the same roof, Antonin," Walden teased.

Antonin fortified himself with a large gulp of the decadent red before responding. He really hated Walden Macnair. Actually he hated most of the other Death Eaters. It was hard sometimes for him to remember what life was like for him before he was carted off to Azkaban the first time so many years earlier. Once upon a time he admired and looked up to many of the men seated around the table. Now, he could walk out the front door, never lay eyes on them again and be perfectly content the rest of his days.

"I don't really see how any of that is your concern, Walden," Antonin replied, not wishing to have another evening devoted to teasing him again.

"Poor Antonin. Leave him alone, Walden," answered Rabastan. "He's been in a very poor mood for days. I was hoping that Miss Granger's arrival would put him in a better mood, but alas, she came back from Azkaban very ill. I daresay he's been frustrated that he hasn't had adequate opportunity to _play_ with her yet."

The chuckles around the table infuriated Antonin. He took another drink from his glass and glared at Rabastan. His expression only made the younger wizard chortle even more. The same wizards who had been present the evening when he was informed by Albert that activity had been detected on Hermione's wand were seated around the round table. All of them seemed amused by Rabastan's words except for Lucius. Yes, the blond wizard tried to make it seem as if he were just as entertained with the notion of using the Mudblood girl as a deviant human toy as the other men, but Antonin wasn't fooled by the glassy expression on his face. Once again he wondered why Lucius even bothered to spend any amount of time with his former comrades. If Antonin were any indication of the feelings of the current Death Eaters, nobody wanted the company of the man with the blasted off mark.

"Not to worry, however," Rabastan continued. "I sent my trusted house elf Rosie up to make certain that Miss Granger will make a full recovery very soon. She has taken my orders very seriously and assures me that our new guest will be perfectly fine in a matter of just a few days."

"Was Miss Granger very sick then?" Lucius asked Antonin, ignoring the titters from the other wizards around him. "Will she be all right?"

"What do you care, Lucius?" Antonin demanded, annoyed that the man continued to speak to him.

"I know how _anxious_ you were to find the girl. I was merely concerned that she was not living up to the expectations you were creating as far back as the weeks following the Department of Mysteries," Lucius added.

Antonin slammed his glass down on the table. All of the chuckles and bawdy comments from the gathered Death Eaters stopped abruptly.

"What exactly are you implying, Lucius? That I've been lusting after the girl since she was a child?"

"She was almost of age at the time of the break in. I was simply suggesting that maybe your obsession for the Mudblood girl has been simmering for a few years now. It is simply curious is all."

Antonin glared across the table. If this had been his home he would've thrown the wizard out without a second thought and then adjusted the wards to repel him for the rest of his miserable, sorry existence. As he was simply another guest within the manor, however, he had to settle for wishing the man's hair would catch on fire and engulf the rest of his pompous head with it.

The air in the dining room was quite tense following their exchange. None of the men present seemed to have the first idea how to defuse some of that tension. Finally after a couple of awkward minutes of silence, the host of the gathering burst into loud laughter that encouraged all but the dark and the silver wizard to join.

"Well, boys, I'm afraid that someone is going to have to break the sad news to Alecto that the wizard she has been lusting after for some time is no longer sleeping in an empty bed," laughed Rabastan. "I, for one, do _not_ wish to be the poor sod who has to relay that message. Poor Allie has had her rather cold heart set on our mate Antonin here for quite some time."

Antonin rolled his eyes and refilled his wine glass as the laughter resumed around him.

"Ach, you are all too hard on the poor witch," Walden said. "She's not so bad."

All eyes turned to face the eldest of the group. He waggled his eyebrows and burst out in his harsh, raspy laughter once more.

"All witches look the same in the dark, my boys. Allie could suck the varnish off a Firebolt!"

While the others found the crass knowledge of Alecto Carrow's fellatio skills amusing, Antonin could only feel a churning in the pit of his stomach at the thought. He had never been more thankful to receive a summons to the Dark Lord's side than he was at that exact moment.

"Excuse me, but the Dark Lord is calling for me," he announced as he rose from the table.

No one else rose to follow him causing him to assume that this was a personal summons. The thought usually would've put him on edge, but he couldn't recall any particular fuck-ups lately on his end that could spell out his doom that evening. With a last sneer at Lucius and a curt nod to each of the other wizards in the room, Antonin swept out of the manor to his master.

* * *

It was almost midmorning by the time Antonin was finally able to Apparate back to Lestrange Manor. The previous evening following his abrupt departure from the irritating dinner party had been rather bizarre, but any return from a summons where he was alive and not suffering the aftershocks of repeated doses of the Cruciatus Curse was fine by him.

In an almost mirror image of the previous morning, Rosie answered the front door as he approached with Rabastan standing just behind her in his hideous dressing gown. The master of the house looked well rested which made Antonin just a tiny bit angry. He was exhausted and hadn't had the luxury of a regular sleeping schedule for quite some time.

"Everything all right?" Rabastan asked as Antonin crossed the threshold. He did seem a bit uneasy with his friend's late return. "You were gone for a long time."

"Everything's fine," Antonin answered, stifling a yawn. "The Dark Lord simply wanted to make certain that I was able to secure my 'war prize'. He seems to find the entire situation with Granger amusing."

"Does that worry you?" Rabastan was completely serious. His usual teasing manner was not present in their conversation for which Antonin was thankful.

"I'm not sure, honestly. It was a bit strange. He summoned me, but I waited for several hours before he allowed me in the Headmaster's office. Then he just wanted to know how she was doing and if she was settling in to the manor well. I told him she was ill, but should be fine soon."

Rabastan wore an uneasy expression on his face. They both had many years of experience dealing with the Dark Lord and his eccentricities. Never made them any easier to decode or understand.

"Somehow I get the feeling that he actually _likes_ the fact that she's been captured and is with me," he continued. "He told me to keep her safe."

"Hmm…" Rabastan seemed as puzzled by the experience as Antonin.

"The Dark Lord never says things without a purpose. I'm sure in the future he will explain what he meant."

"Perhaps."

"The meeting itself did not last terribly long, but then he didn't excuse me from the castle until just a short while ago. I was ordered to stand guard at the Great Hall with Thorfinn for a bit. Rowle said that he would like to make a visit to the manor soon, so you might be expecting him."

Antonin couldn't stop himself from yawning the longer he stood in the entrance hall. He was desperate for sleep. Rabastan sent him back upstairs to his bedroom with the promise that when he was done sleeping, an elf would bring him some food.

His bedroom was still silent when he arrived back in the suite. Rosie was checking on her patient once again as he shrugged off his robes to pull his pajamas back on. No less than another summons from the Dark Lord would entice him to leave the comfort of the sofa until he was finished sleeping.

"How is she?" he asked before Rosie could exit the room.

"Just fine, Mr. Dolohov. Just fine. Young miss's fever broke in the middle of the night. She will be just fine. Just like Rosie promised."

He allowed himself a short look at the sleeping woman before he resigned himself to sleeping on the sofa again. She seemed peaceful. Her breathing was much more even and less labored than it had been the night before. That pleased him. Perhaps she would be waking up soon. Maybe then he could finally figure out just what in the hell he was going to do with her.

* * *

The bedroom was almost completely dark by the time Antonin's eyes opened on their own again. He assumed the time to be mid to late evening when he finally awoke. The only light in the room came from the dying fire he was lying in front of. In no hurry to get up just yet, Antonin took his time stretching his arms and legs. While he hated that he was messing up the possibility of having a normal sleep schedule, he was grateful that he had finally had several hours of uninterrupted sleep. If it meant that he probably wouldn't be tired again until it was time for him to get up the next morning, well, he would just have to deal with the consequences when they arose.

After several minutes of gradually allowing his body to wake up, he could no longer ignore the call of nature. Reluctantly pulling himself up from the sofa, Antonin was surprised enough to stop moving when he saw a pair of brown eyes open and staring at him from his bed. She hadn't said a word to him and based on the complete lack of blinking on her part, she was obviously afraid of the situation she found herself in. No doubt coming to in a strange bed in a strange room with a not-complete stranger asleep in front of the fireplace was a bit unnerving for the poor woman.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, unsure how to break the silence. A question on the status of her health seemed as innocuous as possible.

"Fine," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

He excused himself for a minute to attend to personal matters in the other room. Upon his return he found that the witch hadn't moved, but had at least raised herself into a seated position. Antonin felt like a nervous schoolboy forced to interact with a pretty girl for the first time. He just simply had no idea what to say. For a man who had always prided himself on being frightening and intimidating, he couldn't believe that he was at a loss for words.

"Where am I?" she finally asked. Her tone appeared calm, but he could see even at the distance that he kept between them that she was exceptionally nervous.

"Lestrange Manor," he answered. No point in lying to the woman.

"Why?"

" _Why_?"

Hermione kicked the covers off and rose from the bed. She felt a bit lightheaded. When she started to sway a bit on her feet, Antonin tried to reach for her to steady her, but she pushed his advances away.

"Why am I here? Why did you take me out of Azkaban?" she demanded, her tone rising a bit in pitch and urgency.

"Would you have preferred that I _leave_ you in Azkaban?"

"Maybe! At least then I would know what to expect."

Antonin couldn't keep the amused chuckles from leaving his mouth. _How naïve_ , he thought. If one could call his years of experience in living in Azkaban a benefit, then he had the _benefit_ of understanding that nothing about Azkaban was expected. The healthiest, strongest wizard alive could find themselves insane and dead within hours while the weakest, sickest wizard could survive for decades. His laughter, even as quiet as he tried to make it, made the young woman angry. He could tell by the glint in her whiskey-colored eyes that his reaction was not well-received.

"What are you planning?" she demanded. "Did you just take me out of Azkaban so you could turn me over to your _master_?"

"No, that's not why…"

"I don't believe you!"

Her voice was now a shrill, panicked tone. Antonin was certain that it could be heard outside of the bedroom. He placed a nonverbal silencing spell on the room. Even though he was certain that Rabastan had his own devious ways to eavesdrop within his manor, he didn't want the content of their discussion to become public knowledge to anyone standing outside in the corridor. With the increased number of guests to the manor following the end of the war, he couldn't risk another Death Eater hearing and reporting their conversation.

"You're just keeping me here until you can turn me over to _him_. Does he have an old fashioned public execution planned? Am I to be a warning to all of the other Mudbloods?!"

"No, of course not. You are perfectly safe here, Miss Granger."

Her face twisted into an almost feral grin before she burst into wild, uncomfortable laughter. Antonin felt unnerved by her behavior. He could practically _smell_ the fear emanating off of her body.

"Why you? Why were you so determined to catch me in Inverness? Why were you angry that the aurors came and took me?"

Hermione's limited strength began to give out. Reluctantly she was forced to lower herself back down onto the soft mattress. She sat on the edge clutching her head within her hands. Antonin could see the fearful tears running down her cheeks even in the dimness of the room. It made him uncharacteristically upset. Tears from an emotional woman never usually affected him. Seeing how terrified she was struck him right in the gut. Is this how this entire experience was going to go? Would she always be afraid of him?

"Why am I here?" she demanded again.

"I have enough influence to keep you out of Azkaban. Surely you can see that these surroundings are just a bit more comfortable than the prison."

" _Why_?"

She met his eyes yet again. He was struck once more by the raw fear he could see inside them.

"Did you take me out of Azkaban so you could… so you could _rape_ me?!"

"Absolutely not!"

She wasn't convinced by his response. Not that he could exactly blame her. Rape and torture and murder were kind of the three big things that Death Eaters were known for. To come right out and admit that you weren't interested in completing one third of your expected duties as an evil henchman for a mad Dark Lord did sound preposterous even to his own ears.

"A witch has never come into my bed without it being her choice," he assured her.

Perhaps realizing that she was actually already in his bed without it being her choice, Hermione jumped up from her seated position on the mattress. The sudden movement caused her to lose her balance. Antonin crossed the few feet to catch her before she hit the ground. With her once more in his arms, she tried to struggle to get out.

"I didn't choose to be in your bed!"

"No, maybe not, but maybe you noticed that _I_ wasn't sleeping in the bed?" He gestured over towards his bedding still lying on the sofa. "I have not and _will not_ take a woman without her consent."

Hermione narrowed her eyes to almost closed slits to glare up at him.

"You're still a monster."

"Maybe, but there are worse monsters out there than me. Perhaps you'd like me to introduce you to some?"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

 _"Maybe, but there are worse monsters out there than me. Perhaps you'd like me to introduce you to some?"_

The wizard tightened his grasp on Hermione's arms. His words were spoken in a low tone, but their close proximity to each other meant she didn't miss a syllable. For the first time since she woke up in the unfamiliar bedroom with the man who once slashed her chest with purple fire in an effort to end her life, she was terrified. Maybe she pushed him too far. When he first rose from the sofa he seemed hesitant around her, unsure of what to say or how to act. The more she allowed her mouth to run away from her, the more he seemed to remember that he was a fearsome Death Eater and she was only a nineteen year old Hogwarts dropout.

"Our _host_ likes to invite friends over on a regular basis," Antonin continued, his tone every bit as low and fear-provoking as it had been moments earlier. "You are sure to remember some of them. I believe you have been on the wrong end of their wands a few times in the past."

Hermione made the decision to not allow this wizard to intimidate her. Antonin Dolohov had been a frequent guest star in her nightmares since she was sixteen years old, but somehow the original article standing in front of her in his blue and white pinstriped pajamas with only half of the buttons haphazardly buttoned wasn't nearly as menacing as the dark wizard in his Death Eater mask. She forced the tears that were threatening to fall out of her eyes again to stop. With an indignant sniff, she turned her eyes up to meet his.

"I'm not afraid of them," she replied.

"Then you are a fool."

She couldn't keep the offended huff from escaping from her mouth. How dare he? Hermione glared back up into his dark brown eyes.

"Every single one of them are capable of not only killing you, Miss Granger," he continued. "But they are all experienced in torture and making what should've been a relatively painless, swift death last for days."

"There are worst things than death," she answered, not feeling the confidence that her tone otherwise implied.

"Yes, indeed there are. And they know what they are doing. They love to hurt witches in unimaginable ways too. Ways that no one woman ever wants to experience. Know lots of curses that hurt worse than any pain you can imagine."

"You've used one of those curses on me before," Hermione spat.

"Indeed I have. Don't expect an apology from me for that. You had no business being there that day. You should've stayed back in the safety of your common room and allowed the actual adults to fight that battle."

Hermione used her limited strength to push herself out of his grasp. He was surprised at first by her abrupt movements and didn't hesitate to drop her arms. In a matter of seconds Hermione was able to remove herself from his embrace and lock herself into the large bathroom. The door showed signs of a hasty _reparo_ spell at some point in the past she noticed as she turned the lock. She wasn't naïve enough to believe that a simple latch on the door would keep the Death Eater out of the room if he really wanted in, but she wanted at the very least the semblance of being alone for a few minutes. She took her time using and exploring the luxurious bathroom. When she felt her eyes grow heavy and her limbs weary again, she forced herself to push open the door back to the bedroom.

Antonin was seated on the edge of the bed staring at the bathroom door. When she made her reappearance into the bedroom, he rose immediately. She didn't have the energy to argue with him any longer and wished he would leave. Hermione still couldn't fully understand what was happening. Why was she removed from Azkaban after the sham of a trial in front of the Wizengamot? She _never_ submitted a signed confession to any of the bogus charges she was accused of. And why was _he_ the one who took her and brought her to the manor of one of the families she hated most in the world? Nothing made any sense! Why was he sleeping on the sofa? This couldn't be the only guest room in the entire manor with a bed in it.

"I'm exhausted," she announced. "I don't want to argue with you anymore right now. Don't get me wrong. I'm still confused as hell and have about a thousand questions for you, but I can't right now. It's just simply too much."

"All right. We can continue our discussion in the morning," he conceded. "There's no reason to rush through all of your questions. We have plenty of time to talk."

Hermione snorted. Yes, they would have plenty of time to talk if she was to be his prisoner for the rest of her natural life. Antonin chose to ignore her rude outburst. He nodded once to her before heading back to the sofa in front of the fireplace. The room had grown a bit cool during their earlier argument as the fire almost died out completely. A simple incantation brought the fire back up to a roaring status.

"Why are you sleeping on the sofa?" Hermione couldn't stop herself from asking the question that she'd been wondering about since about four seconds after she woke up and realized Antonin Dolohov was asleep in the same room.

Antonin settled down on the sofa and began to rearrange the blankets that had come tangled up during his earlier slumber. He didn't seem in any hurry to answer her query. Finally he laid his head down on his pillow. His eyes met hers across the room.

"You are in the bed," he answered as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

"This must be an immense house. Surely there are other guest rooms."

"This is my room."

"Then why am _I_ in here? Surely there's some dark hole in the basement or tiny, stuffy attic room I could be shoved in to be out of the way."

Antonin sighed loudly. He was obviously getting quite annoyed with their discussion. Hermione began to feel a bit awkward asking the questions, but knew that she had to know. She had to have some kind of explanation for why she was sleeping in a Death Eater's quite comfortable and luxurious bed while he made do with a couple of blankets on a sofa. It didn't make any sense to her. She was a woman who needed logic and correct, meaningful answers.

"You are under my protection, Miss Granger," he said, taking his eyes off of hers to roll over to find a more comfortable position. "How can you be protected if you are hidden away in some dank hole in the cellar?"

Hermione lay back down in the bed to think his answer over for a bit. It made a tiny bit of sense, but if he was just keeping her in the room to keep a close eye on her, she should've been shoved in a closet or she should be the one on the sofa. His explanation didn't completely satisfy her curiosity. Several minutes passed in silence. She was fairly certain that Dolohov wasn't asleep yet, but he hadn't opened his eyes to confirm her suspicions. Hermione was close to falling asleep herself until a disturbing thought crossed her overactive mind. She sat up so abruptly in the bed that her movements startled the wizard. He jumped up from the sofa, wand at the ready, expecting an attack. His reflexes were impressive, Hermione thought.

"I _will_ _not_ sleep in this bed for a moment longer," she announced to the ever increasingly annoyed man.

"Why?" He rubbed his eyes and shook his head.

"I understand what this all is. I understand my purpose now and I will have none of it!"

Antonin sighed.

"What purpose do you believe you have, Miss Granger?"

"I _will not_ be your bed warmer!"

Whatever reaction she was expecting from the man announcing her intention to _not_ serve the purpose he obviously plucked her out of Azkaban to serve was not the reaction that she received. Antonin stared at her for several seconds before bursting out laughing. He actually had to seat himself on the sofa he was laughing so hard. Hermione didn't understand the humor at all! She crossed the distance between them. Tears were rolling down his stubbled face and he was clutching his stomach. When his laughter subsided for just a moment, he looked back up into Hermione's confused face and the laughter began again. The young witch had no idea what was wrong with the man. She wondered if this was a result of his many years locked up in Azkaban prison. Perhaps he had finally cracked?

"Go back to bed, Miss Granger. You are still recovering."

Antonin lay back down on the sofa and pulled his blankets back over his pajama clad body. With a final look in her direction and a soft chuckle, he closed his eyes. Hermione stared at him for several moments before returning to the bed.

Hermione got to officially meet the little, bossy house elf who had been taking care of her in her sickness the next morning. She was surprised and honestly a bit startled to open her eyes to find two large, round eyes staring back at her the next morning. When Rosie's cheerful, but unfamiliar countenance, came into her line of sight, Hermione gasped and sat up quickly in the bed.

"Now now, young Miss. No need to be frightened of old Rosie," the house elf said with a chuckle. "Rosie has been taking care of you for days now and she hasn't hurt you. Master Rabbie ordered Rosie to take care of you personally and that is just what I am doing."

Hermione looked across the room to catch Antonin's eye. He was rising from his makeshift bed on the sofa. She wasn't sure why she was looking in his direction for confirmation, but all it took was a single nod in her direction from him to put her mind at ease about the elderly elf.

"It looks like young miss is feeling much better this morning," continued Rosie. "She has a good amount of color back in her cheeks. Rosie didn't like the way you looked when you were first brought to the manor."

"Thank you for caring for me, Rosie."

The simple phrase of gratitude coming out of Hermione's mouth caused both Rosie and Antonin to stop what they were doing and stare at the young witch with curious expressions. Hermione felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment at the attention. She'd forgotten how house elves were usually not accustomed to kind words of thanks from their charges. It was an aspect of the whole house elf servitude system that made her uncomfortable. Thanking someone for being kind to her or helping her was second nature to Hermione. It was how she was raised. To see an entire species visibly uncomfortable and at times offended by what came so naturally to her was always unnerving.

"Rosie follows Master Rabbie's orders," the elf replied effectively putting an end to any further discussion of appreciation. "Young miss will need to eat all of this soup. Swallow every mouthful or Rosie will not be pleased."

A tray appeared on the bed in front of Hermione. She couldn't deny that she was quite hungry. The last meal she could remember eating was the soup from the pub the night she was captured. And that had ended up all over the Ministry's marble floor and on the auror. Not that she cared too much about who or what she vomited on that night. If she could have, she would've done much worse to the men who took her into custody.

"Rosie will find young miss something to wear after her bath," Rosie continued.

Hermione felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment again. She didn't think she actually had anything to wear. The purple pajamas she woke up wearing were lovely and warm, but they weren't hers. All of her clothing was in the little beaded bag that she normally kept in her pocket. Everything she owned was removed from her the morning she was taken to Azkaban.

"I don't think I have anything to wear," she said in a whisper, not wanting the man in the room who was digging through his dresser to hear.

"Nonsense!" Rosie said. "Mr. Dolohov made certain that you have everything that you need."

Antonin stopped rummaging for clean clothes to look over his shoulder at the bed. He started to say something until he was cut off by the exuberant elf.

"Mr. Dolohov went to Madam Malkin's the other day before Young Miss was brought to the manor," she explained. "He ordered a brand new wardrobe for you. It looks like it might be a bit big for you though."

"They had your measurements on file," Antonin explained.

"From after my sixth year," Hermione said, her cheeks flushing once more. "I'm afraid I've lost some weight since then."

"Not to worry, Young miss! Rosie will fatten you back up in no time at all. Finish up the soup and then you can take a long, hot bath. Rosie will do something with your hair when you're done."

The house elf pulled some of Hermione's frizzled curls to examine further. Based on the expression she was making the elf did not think too highly of her new charge's hair. Hermione tucked into the soup to give her some form of distraction from the embarrassment she was feeling being so closely surveyed by the creature. She caught Antonin's eye as he crossed back over the room to head towards the bathroom. He seemed as if he was willing to conduct a close examination of his own. The thought made her cheeks burn.

"Mr. Dolohov, Rosie laid out some shaving cream and a sharp razor," announced the elf before he could open the bathroom door. "Rosie thinks that you will feel more comfortable and look nicer after a shave."

He stopped to glare at the elf for her impertinence. Hermione found his expression hilarious and couldn't keep herself from laughing aloud at his discomfort.

"Please allow me," suggested Hermione when the wizard narrowed his eyes in her direction. "There's a spot on your neck that looks like it needs extra attention."

His eyes narrowed further at her remark. For a brief moment Hermione felt as if she were poking a sleeping bear with a large stick.

"Just remember that if something happens to me, Miss Granger," he said with a low and warning tenor. "You will be at the mercy of whichever replacement will be found for me. I can assure you, none of them would even _think_ about sleeping on the sofa."

She swallowed the lump in her throat at his words. A moment later he disappeared into the bathroom to complete his own morning ablutions. Hermione found her hand began to shake just a tiny bit when she tried to eat another mouthful of the delicious broth Rosie provided.

"Young miss shouldn't provoke Mr. Dolohov," the elf admonished in a kind tone. "He has been very worried about you since he brought you to the manor. He has helped Rosie care for you and has kept a close watch on you."

Rosie moved over to the large closet on the other side of the room. She disappeared into the racks of clothing, giving Hermione plenty of time alone to think about what she just said. It didn't sound a bit like the Antonin Dolohov that she knew of in the past. He wouldn't have cared one bit what happened to her. He was the one who almost succeeded in killing her for Circe's sake! Hermione was half-convinced that the little elf was suffering from dementia or some massive trauma to her little brain.

Several minutes later the bathroom door opened. Antonin entered the bedroom fully dressed, shaved and with a head full of wet hair. He ran a towel through his locks before reaching for his wand to spell them dry. After one look at her tray of food, he scowled.

"Please finish everything," he asked gently. "If you don't, Rosie will blame me."

Hermione snorted before picking her spoon back up. He watched her for a moment or so before carefully lowering himself on the edge of the foot of the bed. It was the first time that they had both been conscious and on the bed at the same time. The significance of that moment was not lost on either of them. Hermione dropped her eyes back to the almost empty bowl of broth. Antonin cleared his throat and stared at the bathroom door.

"I ran a bath for you," he announced after a long awkward silence.

"Thank you."

"When you're finished you should try to get out of the room. I can't imagine you being very entertained alone in here all day," he suggested.

"Am I even allowed to?"

She didn't mean to be sarcastic and immediately felt bad by it when she saw his expression.

"Of course you are. You may go anywhere in the manor you would like and explore the grounds to your heart's content. It's been snowing the past few days so I wouldn't recommend going out."

"Okay. I just assumed I was some kind of prisoner."

"No, you are under my protection. That is completely different. You will not be able to leave the grounds, but I would not call you a prisoner."

Hermione wasn't sure that she would consider that much of a distinction. Sure sounded like she was still a prisoner. Yes, a prisoner in a rather large, rather gilded cage, but still a prisoner. Lack of wand and restriction of movement didn't exactly fit the description of being free. She was also completely in his debt and at his mercy. Even the very pajamas she was wearing on her body had been provided by him. It felt quite strange to be in this man's debt.

"What does being under your protection mean exactly?" she asked as she ladled in the last bit of broth to her mouth.

"Exactly as it sounds. You are under my protection. No harm will come to you as long as you are with me," he explained. "No one, not even any of my _associates_ will harm you or touch you. If they do, they will have to answer not only to me, but to the Dark Lord as well."

"So basically, you're the only one who is allowed to touch me against my wishes?"

He let out a loud, annoyed exhale upon hearing her words. They both were aware that this arrangement was not going to be easy for either of them.

"If you want to get technical, then yes. That's exactly what it means," he answered.

Hermione pushed the tray away from her. She removed herself from the bed in a swift movement. The wizard didn't even move a muscle to stop her. With the bathroom door closed and locked behind her, Hermione took a deep breath. This was her life now and she still wasn't sure how she felt about it. _It could be much worse, Hermione_ , she thought to herself. At least she was warm.

The oversized bathtub was filled with fragrant lavender oil. It smelled amazing and already just standing over the steaming water she felt herself calm down just a bit more. Hermione undressed without a second thought to sink down into the warm water. She lay in the tub for a long time just enjoying the feel of the heat on her stiff muscles. While she wasn't exactly sure how many days she had been in bed, she knew that too much rest could stiffen her muscles. It had been so long since she was last able to enjoy a hot bath. At least since she was in sixth year and able to use the Prefects' bathroom.

She felt almost human again after the long soak. When her hands started to prune with overexposure to the water, she hastily washed her hair and finished her bath. A large, fluffy towel was waiting for her use at the end of the tub. Hermione dried off with the towel and immediately realized her error. She hadn't brought any change of clothing into the bathroom with her. As far as she knew all of her clothing was on the opposite side of the bedroom that was now occupied by a Death Eater who swore that he wouldn't touch her without her consent. It was enough to make her groan.

She carefully stuck her head out the bathroom door to survey the room. A woolen green dress was laid out on the bed next to a discreetly folded pile of undergarments. There was no sign of the little elf to bring the clothing to her in the safety of the bathroom. Hermione took her chances. With the fluffy towel wrapped firmly around her thin frame, she rushed across the expanse to the bed. She had the adorable dress in her hands and the knickers and bra tucked under her arm when the door to the bedroom opened. Antonin rushed in the room with an annoyed expression on his face. Hermione froze next to the bed. He was four steps in when he spotted her standing dripping in the middle of the bedroom wearing nothing but a towel. Immediately his cheeks flushed.

"Excuse me," he said, dropping his eyes to the floor. "I… forgot something."

Hermione didn't respond. Simply rushed the last several feet to the safety of the confines of the bathroom. She wasted no time in getting dressed. By the time she was fully clothed, Antonin was no longer in the bedroom. She crossed to sit in front of the fire to finish towel drying her hair. While she was anxious to get out of the bedroom and explore the manor she was now confined to living in, she didn't want to wander around a big, old house with wet hair. She called Rosie's name, but no one appeared.

There was a light tap on the bedroom door. Confused by the sound, Hermione walked over to the entrance to pull it open. Antonin stood in the corridor. He thanked her for opening the door before pushing inside the room.

"Do you normally knock on your own bedroom door?" she asked, unable to hide the hint of teasing present in her voice.

"I wasn't sure if you were…"

His cheeks were crimson again. Hermione thought it was hilarious. Did she really unnerve the grown wizard that much?

"Did you forget something again?"

"Wha… oh." He cleared his throat. "I left my wand in the closet. Got halfway out the front door before I realized it wasn't in my pocket. When I walked in on you, I just turned back around and left."

"You don't have to knock on your own door. That's ridiculous. I'll just make a better effort to not forget my clothes next time I bathe."

Antonin cleared his throat again at her promise. He watched Hermione towel dry her hair for a few moments before offering his help. She smiled up at the man and nodded. The wizard waved his wand over her unruly locks to dry them in a moment.

"I will be leaving for the day," Antonin announced. "So will Rabastan."

"Secret Death Eater duties?" she asked, surprising them both by teasing the wizard once again.

"Something like that," he answered with a small smile. "You will be alone with the elves today. I'm not sure when I will return. Feel free to explore the manor. There is an extensive library on the ground floor if that interests you."

"Thank you."

Antonin nodded in her direction in what Hermione was certain was his own personal form of salutation before leaving the room. She ran her fingers through the spell-dried locks for something to do. When she felt like it had been long enough for the Death Eater to have made it to the front door and exited the grounds, Hermione rose from the sofa in front of the fireplace to dig through her new closet. The closet was divided straight down the middle with Antonin's clothes hanging on the left and hers hanging on the right. Rosie hadn't been exaggerating when she said that he'd gone out and purchased an entire wardrobe for her. She was a little taken aback by the sheer number of garments hanging on her side of the closet. Nothing looked hideous for which she was silently thankful. One could never tell if a man was going to make the right choices when picking out clothes for a witch. Hopefully, he'd gotten some help from Madam Malkin herself.

Hermione ran her hands across the man's robes hanging on the left side of the closet. She wasn't sure what possessed her to do so, but she couldn't deny that she was very curious about the man. His robes were of a good quality, not overly pretentious like she'd seen on the Malfoy men. She didn't care for the rich fabrics and silver buttons that seemed to scream _I have more money in my pocket than you will ever see in your entire life_. Antonin's robes were quality, but not overly so. She grasped the sleeve of a navy blue robe, fingering the weave of the fabric. Before she could stop herself she pulled the sleeve up to her nose. There were lingering scents of green apple, almonds and even what might have been a bit of grass still hanging on to the fabric. It smelled a bit like the pillow she'd been using.

"Stop humanizing him, Hermione," she admonished herself out loud, dropping the sleeve as if it were on fire. "He's still a monster even if his clothes smell heavenly."

She spied the heavy cloak in the very back of the closet. It was cut in a delicate fashion, but it was warm nonetheless. Hermione pulled it on over her dress. A warm hat and matching gloves were stuffed inside the pockets. She wasted no time in pulling the matching accoutrements on and exiting the bedroom.

There was a long, empty corridor just outside the door. The house was eerily silent, but she knew that it was the mark of a good house elf that they not be seen or heard unless specifically called upon by their masters or mistresses. Hermione rushed down the length of the long corridor, seeing and sensing no one on the way. A grand staircase broke up the middle of the hallway. She took a quick look around to make sure that no one was watching her before running at full speed down the stairs. When she reached the large entrance hall at the base of the stairs, she threw open the front door and quietly closed it behind her. From the front steps she could see the gates marking the entrance to the estate at the end of a long driveway. She wasn't sure what her next steps would be, but she had to know if Antonin was telling her the truth. Was she really stuck inside the gates? Hermione took off running towards the looming iron gates. They were open, almost invitingly so. She stepped through the gates and immediately was thrown gently backwards. Landing on her arse in the snow, she couldn't help the tears that began to roll down her cheeks. He hadn't been lying. She really and truly was a prisoner.

Sitting in the cold snow wasn't conducive to a great deal of comfort. After several minutes when the realization that a simple escape from the Lestrange Estate was impossible, Hermione brushed herself off and reentered the house. Rosie was standing in the Entrance Hall waiting to open the front door. The elf snapped her fingers to spell the cloak and accessories off of Hermione's body.

"Rosie thinks it might be too cold for young miss to take a walk around the grounds," the elf said, pointedly ignoring the fact that she just witnessed her charge try to escape.

"Yes, Rosie, I think you're correct. I think I will just spend the morning in the library instead. Will you show me where it is?"

The house elf led Hermione down yet another long corridor past what she could see was the formal dining room and a large study. She felt a little nervous entering the back of the massive residence. There were so many rooms that she was certain it would be all too easy to get lost. Finally after what seemed miles and miles of walking, Rosie pushed open the door to an impressive library. Hermione stared up at the painted ceiling three stories above her. Shelves and shelves of books were scattered around the edge of the walls and the room. There was a circular staircase that rose to the second and third level of the library.

"Thank you, Rosie. I am sure I can find something in here to occupy my time with."

"Good, young miss. Rosie will bring some tea and biscuits in later."

Hermione walked over closer to the massive fireplace in the middle of the room. She gasped when she saw the fluffy rug begin to move. It took her a moment to realize that she wasn't seeing a moving rug, but an immense, fluffy dog. While never considering herself to be a dog person, she knew enough about the individual species to identify the dog as a Saint Bernard. The creature tilted its head to examine her before deciding that she was a friendly spirit. He bounced over to where she was standing to rub his massive head on her legs. The dog obviously had no idea he was as large as he was. Just the simple amount of pressure on her legs was almost enough to topple the young witch.

"That is Argos," Rosie explained from the doorway. "He is Master Roddy's dog. He is a nice dog, but very large. Rosie can take him out of the room if young miss wishes."

Argos chose that moment to lean up and place a slobbery kiss on Hermione's face. Ordinarily an act like that from a strange dog would've grossed her out to no end, but not this time. Something about this dog called out to Hermione. She didn't want him to go anywhere.

"No, thank you, Rosie. Argos and I will get along just fine."

The dog followed Hermione around the library as she searched for a good book to read. He seemed to find her as interesting as she found the tomes lining the walls. It didn't take her long to find three or four books that she wanted to devour. She carried them with her to the large sofa in front of the fireplace. Without an invitation Argos jumped up on the sofa next to her and laid his massive head in her lap. He was content to lie on the sofa with her for occasional scratches behind his ears while he slept.

Argos was in love, Hermione decided late that evening when she decided it was time to head back up to bed. She had had no interactions with any living creature beyond Rosie and Argos for the entire day. According to Rosie when she delivered Hermione's dinner to her in the library on a silver tray, Argos usually spent winter days sleeping in front of the library fire. Rabastan wasn't a big fan of his brother's dog and he rarely entered the library if he could help it. Rosie and the other elves made certain that a fire was always going in the library for the dog's benefit. When Hermione decided it was time to get back in her pajamas and attempt to get some more sleep, she was surprised to find Argos hot on her heels. The pained expression his furry face had when she attempted to close the bedroom door on him was too much for her. She couldn't deny the dog.

So it was that Antonin entered his bedroom around ten o'clock that evening to find Hermione sitting up in bed reading a thick book with a massive Saint Bernard laying on the pillow next to her. While he didn't have anything against dogs, he did have a problem with a drooling animal in his bed.

"Down, Argos," he ordered. The dog looked up at Hermione for confirmation before he jumped down. "The bed is no place for a dog."

Argos shot Hermione another sad look before lowering himself down on the rug in front of the fireplace. Antonin sighed when he saw the exchange between the other two living creatures in his bedroom. It had been an exceptionally long day for him. He wasn't in the mood for an argument. Hermione could sense that and thought it best to keep her mouth shut about his treatment of the dog.

"Long day?" she asked, not sure why she even cared.

"Very. I just want a hot shower and sleep."

He disappeared into the bathroom with his pajamas under his arm. When he came back out several minutes later it was to find the lamp next to the bed extinguished and Hermione under the covers. She saw him stare at the empty side of the bed with a hint of longing in his eyes before returning to the sofa that had been his place of rest for several days. Antonin sighed a bit too loudly when he lowered himself down on the sofa. Immediately the dog rose from the rug to place his furry head in Antonin's face.

"Go away, Argos!"

Hermione watched the exchange with a smile on her face. She tried to hide the giggles that escaped her mouth when she saw how frustrated Antonin was with the animal. Argos shot Antonin an offended look before settling himself back down on the rug. In less than a minute the sound of loud snores from the dog annoyed Antonin to the point of eliciting a loud groan from the wizard. After almost five minutes the acrid smell from the dog's hind end made Antonin jump up from the sofa.

"I will _not_ sleep next to this animal!"

Hermione rose from the bed to cross the room to where the offensive dog was being shooed out of the room. She grabbed hold of Argos' collar before he ran out into the hallway. Antonin seemed every bit as frustrated with her as he was with the dog when she stopped the dog from leaving through the open door. He saw the determined look on her face and slammed the door shut.

"I will sleep on the sofa," Hermione suggested.

Antonin snatched the pillow off of the sofa and moved closer to the bed.

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped.

She released her hold on Argos' collar to walk back over to the bed. Antonin dropped his pillow on the left side of the bed, the empty side of the bed. He pulled the blankets back to crawl underneath them.

"Come to bed, Hermione," he ordered when he realized she was standing in the middle of the room staring at him.

"I'll sleep on the sofa."

"No, you won't. If you want the dog in the bedroom, then _I_ get the bed… with _you_ in it."

She couldn't believe the change in his attitude since the morning. What had happened that day to make him so grumpy? Just that morning he was talking about how he was not like other Death Eaters because he was willing to sleep on the sofa when all of the others would've forced themselves to share their bed with her. Now he was actually ordering her to sleep next to him. When she hadn't moved, Antonin threw the covers off and jumped out of bed. He grasped Hermione by the wrist and pulled her over to the right side of the bed.

"Get in bed," he ordered again.

"No."

Antonin rubbed his eyes. He really wasn't in the mood for yet another argument with the woman.

"I am not your bed warmer!"

The wizard was really not in the mood. He placed both of his large hands around the young witch's waist. She tensed at the intimate physical contact.

"Well, I've decided that you are," he retorted.

She didn't move. The glint in his dark brown eyes frightened her. He had all of the power and she knew it. She had no wand and limited physical power. He didn't even need a wand or much of an effort to subdue her if he so desired.

"Bed. _Now_."

She hesitated again. Antonin was at his wit's end. He stared down at the scared woman and felt his stomach clench. Briefly he wondered again if there would ever be a time when she wasn't terrified to be in his presence. Didn't seem likely at that moment. With his hands still wrapped around her tiny waist, he pulled her body into his chest. She squeaked in surprise at the unexpected change in their stances. Her whiskey colored eyes stared up into his chocolate eyes.

Hermione couldn't understand what was happening. Why was he behaving so differently than he had earlier in the day? It was enough to make her want to run out of the room and hide in one of the dozens of rooms she'd passed by on her tour of the manor. She lowered her eyes from his when the intensity of his stare became too much. Antonin placed a gentle hand under her chin to lift her gaze back up. She only had a moment or so to think before she felt his unexpectedly soft lips cover hers.

The kiss was over almost as soon as it began. Antonin released his hold on the young woman and walked around the end of the bed to get in on the left side. Hermione was still dazed by the startling display of affection when she climbed in the bed next to him. They drifted off to sleep a short time later, both sleeping on the very edge of the opposite sides of the bed.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Sometime after three in the morning Antonin found himself wide awake. He wasn't sure what exactly woke him up to begin with, but he knew returning to the deep sleep he'd been enjoying earlier would not be easy. The damned dog was still snoring in front of the fireplace. He couldn't believe he'd actually allowed the witch to convince him to leave the animal in the bedroom. If anyone else attempted to do what she did, he would've thrown the witch out of his bedroom with the dog.

He picked up his wand off of the nightstand to send a silencing charm at the smelly dog. His snores immediately silenced allowed the tiny, almost charming snores coming from the woman next to him to be heard. Antonin carefully rolled over onto his side to examine the source of the noise. At some point in the night, Hermione had shifted closer to the middle of the large bed. She'd kicked the bedcovers off of the right side of her body. Both of her arms were raised over her head. Her pajama top separated from her bottoms to reveal several inches of creamy white skin on her stomach. Antonin had to resist the urge to reach over and touch the bare flesh illuminated by the moonlight coming in through the uncovered windows. He clenched his fist to resist the enticement.

She would likely be embarrassed if she knew how closely he was watching her in her relaxed state. Especially considering the small, adorable snores still coming out of her body. Antonin felt a bit guilty for staring, but he knew the chances of this opportunity presenting itself again were slim. She was still very awkward and ill at ease in his presence. It was to be expected, of course. He could only imagine the rampant fears raging through her obviously overactive brain.

He had seen the fear in her eyes when he pulled her body into his chest during their argument. Her eyes had grown wide and despite his assurances that he wouldn't assault her under any conditions, he knew she was afraid that he was about to do exactly what he said he wouldn't do. Of course, to be fair, if she'd shown any indication that she was interested, he would've thrown her on the bed and made her scream. He settled for the barest hint of a kiss. She didn't slap him or scream. He would consider that progress. It was encouraging at least.

Antonin continued to stare at the young witch in his bed. He'd been denying his desires to himself for so long when it came to her. Now that she was inches away in the most personal of places he couldn't deny that he wanted more than just to simply keep her safe. He wanted _her_ , all of her. Of course he couldn't imagine his fantasies moving anywhere close to reality. Their history wasn't exactly an easy one for them to move past. How many successful relationships began with attempted murder at first sight? Even in the semi-darkness he could see the hints of the scar on her belly. He didn't have to see how long it was to know that he'd done irreparable harm to her body in the past.

Part of his hatred for Lucius Malfoy was because the damned wizard accused him of being the tiniest bit obsessed with the woman back when they were in cells next to each other in Azkaban. At the time he denied his interest in her vehemently, but Lucius never gave up his mocking taunts throughout their months-long incarceration. Lucius was relentless. When he found out that Antonin specifically requested her from the Dark Lord, Lucius had a veritable field day. The blonde wizard was a constant reminder to him of the harrowing days following the massive Department of Mysteries fuck-up when he thought, feared that the girl who silenced him was dead. He hated, _hated_ when Lucius reminded him of those long, lonely months in his freezing cold cell.

Hermione shifted further across the bed in her sleep. When she rolled over to lie on her stomach, she brushed her body against Antonin's. Her pajama top slip up just a little bit further to expose more of her delicate back. Antonin clenched and unclenched his hand several times before giving in to the temptation. He laid his left hand on the exposed skin with only the smallest hint of pressure. She stirred a bit when his palm made contact. Antonin prepared himself to rip his hand away, but at the last second she just sighed and settled back into what seemed to be a restful sleep. Antonin was surprised by how warm the small of her back felt. He'd expected her to be cool to the touch now that she was no longer suffering from a high fever.

He hardly dared breathe while his flesh made contact with her flesh. A small voice in the back of his subconscious told him he was being pretty creepy by touching a sleeping woman's back, but he had a lifetime of experience ignoring the voices telling him not to do something he wanted. Thoughts of earlier in the evening flashed through his mind. He wished he'd kissed her harder and longer. He hoped another opportunity or several would present themselves to him. She looked like a woman who needed to be kissed by a man who knew what he was doing. He might be a little rusty, but it was like riding a broom. It would all come back to him at the required moment.

His thoughts strayed to that morning when he entered his room… _their_ room to find her standing there wearing nothing but a towel. He'd had to almost fly out of the room to prevent his inner primal beast from coming out and ravishing her right then and there. She couldn't imagine how beautiful she looked in that moment. How fresh, how unbelievably, god-damned sexy. Antonin pulled his hand off of her back like she was formed of molten lava. Those kinds of thoughts didn't bear thinking when he had no outlet. If there was ever a time that the gorgeous, young witch in his bed allowed him the liberties he so desired, it certainly wasn't that moment. Certainly not while she was still asleep and scared to be in his presence.

Antonin carefully rose from the bed. He needed a distraction that would allow his mind to shut off those kinds of thoughts. He covered his pajamas with a warm bathrobe hanging just inside the closet and slipped on a pair of slippers one of the elves left warming by the fire. Argos lifted a sleepy eye at his movements, but upon realizing Antonin wasn't the human he was interested in, the immense dog went back to sleep, his obnoxious snores still silenced.

The wizard pushed the bedroom door open carefully in an effort to prevent waking up the other occupant of the room. A quick glance at the bed proved his efforts to be successful. He slipped out into the corridor. There was a full bottle of fire whiskey waiting for him in the library. A drink or two might be just what he needed to feel tired enough to fall back asleep.

Loud shrieks sounded from the inside of the master's suite when he passed it in the corridor. Antonin readied his wand for a potential threat until further sounds from within filtered out to prove that Rabastan was in no danger. He rolled his eyes at the noises before quickening his pace. The last thing he needed to hear was evidence that his friend was active in the bedroom. He shuddered as he thought about the variety of available women Lestrange brought home. Some of them Antonin wouldn't have touched with a ten foot wand. Rabastan was a man of varied tastes. The reminder that others in the manor were enjoying intimate acts didn't make Antonin's problem any easier.

Thankfully the library was empty and the fire whiskey was waiting. He lowered himself down on the sofa in front of the fireplace. The elves always kept a fire going in the room for Argos' benefit. He wondered if that would change now that the dog had claimed _his_ witch as his human. To make Hermione happy he'd be willing to put up with the animal despite his protestations earlier. It was really a small thing that obviously made her happy. At this point there wasn't much in her life that brought her joy.

He hated how unsure he felt when it came to her future. The Dark Lord ordered him to keep her safe. Why? What kind of nefarious purpose did he have planned for the witch? There were so many possibilities he could imagine and _none_ of them were good. In a perfect world he would be able to take her somewhere private where she wasn't subjected to the whims of his master.

Two glasses later he found his eyelids heavy with fatigue. He returned to their room making sure to rush past the master's suite. Antonin was careful not to make any noise or shift the bed too much when he crawled back under the covers. At some point in the hour he was gone Hermione rolled back over to her own side of the bed. He couldn't suppress the feeling of disappointment at that fact.

"Were you just summoned?"

The quiet voice surprised Antonin. He'd just closed his eyes when she spoke. He opened his eyes to see her lying on her side staring at him.

"No, I wasn't summoned," he answered.

"Where'd you go?" Her voice was low and sleepy.

"I couldn't sleep. I went to the library."

She closed her eyes and softly nodded her head in approval of his answer.

"Reading always helps me too."

He didn't want to admit that he'd been drinking. A book hadn't even been cracked the entire time he was down there.

"The bed was getting cold," she added. "I almost invited Argos to take your place."

He could tell she was teasing him and chuckled in response.

"I guess it's a good thing I returned when I did."

"Mmm hmm. He would've been overjoyed taking your place, but I don't think you would've been happy taking his spot on the rug."

He chuckled again at her words. They gave him the tiniest bit of hope. If they could have light, teasing pillow talk maybe this situation they'd found themselves in could be successful. Maybe there was some kind of future.

"Yes, you're right. I'm too old to sleep on the floor. I might've had to kick you out while Argos and I enjoyed the bed."

She snorted a quiet, indelicate snort that was utterly adorable.

"I don't think so," she replied. "I get the feeling, Antonin, that now that you've got me in your bed, you're not going to let me leave it."

Well, he couldn't exactly argue with the witch.

* * *

More than a solid week passed of daily summons from morning until late in the night. Some days it felt like Antonin had only been in bed a couple of hours before his mark was burning again. There were several days that he left the manor before Hermione woke up and then came home long after she was asleep. There had been no time to discuss the kiss and no opportunities for another try. It had been frustrating to say the least.

Antonin stood on the edges of the Headmaster's Office attempting to tune out the screams of the poor woman lying across the ornate desk. He would never get used to the callous sexual tortures that so many of his fellow Death Eaters employed. It was beyond disgusting. There were really no words for how horrific the sexual assault of an innocent woman was. He struggled to keep an impassive countenance while the woman screamed and cried as Walden Macnair raped her in front of the thirty or forty of the Inner Circle assembled before the Dark Lord.

The poor girl's crime? Simply being the beloved sister of Thorfinn Rowle. The young, naïve Death Eater made a foolish error a week earlier when they were closing in on a meeting of Undesirables. The top four Undesirables Longbottom, Shacklebolt, George Weasley and Dumbledore's little brother were in the same location in a rundown London warehouse. Thorfinn had knowledge of their whereabouts and despite having a dozen Death Eaters at his disposal, every single one of them escaped. In an effort to impress upon Rowle that his failures had consequences, the Dark Lord called for his younger sister Reina to be brought to Hogwarts. Macnair volunteered for the retrieval mission. _Sick, demented bastard_.

Thorfinn expected repeated exposures to the Cruciatus Curse or perhaps death. When he was dragged into the Headmasters Office and thrown at the feet of the Dark Lord, he had the resolved countenance of one who was willing and ready to die. His courage in the face of what he was thought was certain death was admirable. Even though Antonin found a lot to despise about the man, he felt that Rowle had a lot to be proud of in the manner with which he met his death.

Except he was still very much alive. Tied up in front of the desk in perfect view of the defilement of his little sister. It was a running joke amongst the Death Eaters that Reina Rowle was a changeling left by the fairies. She was a sweet, good-natured Hufflepuff who was about as different from the heavily cruel Slytherin Rowle family as ice is from fire. If she hadn't been born with the same piercing blue eyes of her elder brother and didn't look like a much more attractive and feminine Thorfinn, there would've been speculation that she was the product of an illicit liaison. Her brother was intensely protective of the twenty-one year old witch. Their parents were both dead and they were very close. Many an unsuspecting Death Eater had found themselves at the mercy of Thofinn's wand or his beefy fists after making a disparaging remark about his little sister.

Antonin couldn't believe that what he was witnessing was considered an appropriate punishment. It was beyond cruel. Slitting the man's throat inch by inch with a rusty blade would've been kinder. Rowle had done exactly what just about every other person in that room would've done in his position. Begged, pleaded, sobbed, vomited, begged some more, offered his life in exchange. It all fell on deaf ears. The Dark Lord had a nasty habit of taking what one of his followers loved or cared for most and destroying it in creatively harsh ways. It was enough to make Antonin hope that in the event of a massive fuck-up of his own that it was bad enough that he was killed by the enemy. He didn't want anyone else to have to pay for his own failures.

"Thank you, Walden," said the Dark Lord, effectively ending the rape of Reina Rowle.

Walden pulled away from the young woman and adjusted his trousers. The feral grin he beamed down at the girl was enough to make Antonin's stomach twist and turn.

"Please take Miss Rowle to the room prepared down in the dungeons for her. She will be our guest for a few days."

Macnair dragged her out of the room screaming. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the poor woman's assault would continue when she was taken to the dungeons. It was easy to tell from the glint in Walden's eyes that he believed his fun was just beginning. Antonin choked down the bile that was slowly rising up his esophagus. He turned his attention away from the sobbing woman to fall on the sobbing man tied up at the foot of the desk. Thorfinn was lying on the hardwood floor despite the magical bounds still wrapped around his arms and legs. Every inch of his usually fair skin was deathly pale. A swift kick to his abdomen from Gary Goyle at the Dark Lord's behest stilled his sobs for the moment.

"I do hope you have learned your lesson, Thorfinn," the Dark Lord wheezed. He had been steadily growing weaker since the day he killed Harry Potter. There were rumors that he was dying, but no one was certain if he even could die. "I know that you desire to be closer to your young sister, Thorfinn, so I have had a guest suite prepared for you as well down in the dungeons. As long as your sister remains in our custody, you will remain in the castle."

Goyle and Vince Crabbe took their cue from the Dark Lord to lift the massive young Death Eater off of the floor. While he was still bound, the two wizards drug him out of the office on towards his "guest suite". No doubt he was simply going to be thrown into the cell next to sister where he was sure to be able to hear and witness every single subsequent assault made upon her person.

"I am very disappointed in the failure to apprehend those rebels who have been fighting so diligently to overthrow what we have created," he continued. "Let this evening be a lesson to you all that there will be consequences to your failures in following my orders."

He dismissed them all moments later. Antonin was close enough to the door to the office that he didn't have to wait long to be able to escape. His thoughts were consumed with simply getting back to the manor as soon as possible. There was a bottle he wanted to crawl into waiting for him.

The manor was dark when he arrived at the front door. Even the elves were off in their little nests for the night. A clock in the entrance hall showed that it was past two am. His mind was still racing from the events of the evening. No way he would be able to climb up the stairs and prepare himself for bed. Antonin headed straight for the library where he had a fresh bottle of fire whiskey calling his name.

Antonin pushed open the door to the library with such force that the unexpected occupant of the room squeaked in surprise and dropped the book she was reading. Argos lifted his head up from Hermione's lap to view the intruder.

"I'm sorry," Antonin apologized. "I didn't expect anyone else to be in here at this hour."

Hermione smiled a tentative little smile in his direction.

"I had trouble sleeping," she explained.

Antonin crossed the room to the small table that held the whiskey and glasses. He poured himself a single glass, swallowed it down immediately, and then proceeded to refill his glass and another. Argos hopped down off of the couch when he approached. The wizard seated himself on the center cushion right next to Hermione. At first she tried to wave off the offer of the whiskey, but he wouldn't take no as an answer.

"It's been a long time since I had anything to drink. I'm not sure I will be able to handle it."

"If you get too drunk to walk after one glass _,_ I'll carry you to bed," he promised.

Antonin leaned his head on the back of the sofa and released a loud sigh. Hermione watched his movements as she sipped at her drink. Based on the scrunched up expression on her face when she took a drink, he assumed that her experience with the liquor was limited. Witches in his experience usually stayed away from the fire whiskey. Or at least the ones who weren't wild enough to make him nervous.

"Bad evening?"

"Like you would not believe." He was surprised that he actually answered the question. The experiences of his night were best left unspoken. She was too innocent to know the details of what he had seen that night.

"I'm sorry."

Antonin turned a bit in his seat to take a closer look at the woman next to him. She was dressed in her purple pajamas with a thick dressing gown on over the pajamas. Her hair was pulled back but the loose locks showed that she'd spent part of the night already in bed trying to sleep. He reached across the distance between them to push a loose curl behind her ear. Hermione tensed at the initial contact, but didn't push him away. Because he could sense that she still was not comfortable with the physical touch, he dropped his hand back to his lap.

"May I ask you a question?" she asked after several minutes of an awkward silence.

"You may."

Hermione pulled a newspaper off of a nearby table. On the front page was a small article about a woman arrested on suspicion of Revolutionary Activity. The name wasn't familiar to Antonin, but he knew that "Revolutionary Activity" was simply a blanket charge used against potential enemies of the state. Most of them were completely bogus.

"Right here it says that she was remanded to the Umbridge Home for Young Ladies."

Antonin's stomach began to twist once more. He hated any mention of that damned "home". Too many men he knew enjoyed their visits to the prison for young women. It was depravity at its finest.

"When I was being held in the Ministry the guards were talking about the Umbridge Home. No one would tell me what that was. I've read all of the Daily Prophets since I arrived here, but there's no explanation that I can find anywhere on what it is."

He knocked back the rest of his glass in one gulp.

"What _is_ this place?"

Antonin couldn't help the groan that escaped him at the repeat of her question. It had been a difficult night. He really didn't want to have this discussion with her, but if he could read the look in her eyes he knew she wasn't just going to drop the subject at his request. Besides, she did have a right to know. He was positive that some of the unfortunate young ladies who found themselves locked up there were her friends.

"The Ministry ran several studies at the end of the war measuring birth rates of the last forty or fifty years," he began. "Unsurprisingly, there has been a decline in children born since the beginning of the First Wizarding War."

"What do birth rates have to do with this?"

He could hear the frantic note that was creeping into her voice. If she was already upset before he gave her the meat of the answer, he feared her reaction when she learned the purpose of the prison. Antonin summoned the bottle of whiskey and pushed a full glass into her hands. When she's swallowed half the liquid in two choking gulps, he continued.

"An idea was proposed about a month after the final battle. The idea was to take all of the young, fertile pureblood and halfblood witches out of Azkaban and place them in their own separate facility where they would be secured and monitored."

Silent tears were pouring out of her eyes. She was an intelligent woman. The pieces were already coming together in her head. Antonin reached across the sofa to take her free hand in his. She didn't move to pull it out of his grasp so after a quick, reassuring squeeze, he continued once more. There really was no easy way to explain. He would just have to be blunt.

"The Umbridge Home for Young Ladies was established so that the prisoners could provide magical babies for Ministry-approved adoptive parents."

A sob escaped from her throat, but she silently pleaded with him to continue. He leaned over to place the lightest of kisses on the top of her head. If she was unnerved by the act, she didn't express so.

"How are they getting pregnant?" she asked. "Is it all done clinically or…"

"I imagine that it is being done the old fashioned way."

"How? Who?"

Antonin exhaled and took a large swill from his own glass.

"There are certain Ministry-approved men who are allowed to visit the Home. Ministry officials, members of the Wizengamot…"

"Death Eaters?"

"Death Eaters."

"Have you ever gone?"

"No, of course not. I will not participate in government sanctioned rape."

The silence grew between them for several long minutes. She still had not released his hand. In fact, she tightened her grip on it to an almost painful degree. Antonin finally had to release her hand to prevent any broken bones. He chose instead to wrap his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into the embrace without really giving much thought otherwise. Progress.

"Are they just stuck there forever?" she asked, sniffing. "Doomed to spend the rest of their lives getting raped and pregnant repeatedly?"

"I believe they are eligible for parole once their twelfth baby reaches its first birthday."

" _Twelve_?"

Hermione burst into tears at this new bit of knowledge. Her empty glass went crashing to the floor as she covered her face with both hands. Antonin pulled her tiny body closer to his to allow her head to rest on his shoulder.

"Is that where all of the girls from the DA were sent?" she asked after a few minutes of solid crying.

"I believe so, yes. If there were any that were Muggle born…"

"No, I was the only Muggle born witch. There were a few wizards, but I don't know what happened to them."

Another silence fell between them. Neither knew what to say. She hadn't removed her head from his shoulder and he hadn't removed his arm from around her. Part of Antonin feared to breathe in case he broke the spell. For the first time since he took her out of Azkaban she actually seemed comfortable around him. He didn't want her to come to her senses and return to a frightened state.

"I think we should go to bed," Antonin suggested when the clock struck three.

Hermione allowed him to help her up from the sofa. Her eyes were still red and puffy, but the tears had trickled down to almost non-existence. Antonin took her hand in his once more without any protestations. She allowed him to lead her back to their bedroom with Argos only steps behind. She was already dressed in her pajamas so he led her straight to her side of the bed. When he slipped under the covers on his side several minutes later he could feel the mattress shake with her silent sobs.

"It's my fault they are there, Antonin," she cried.

He scooted closer to the middle of the bed to take her body into his arms. The distraught young woman allowed the comfort he offered.

"You're not to blame, Hermione," he said, placing a soft kiss amongst her curls.

"She's held a grudge against me for years. That's why she had all of the DA members thrown in there."

"Who has held a grudge?"

"Umbridge. She hates me more than anyone else in this world hates me. Even Rowle couldn't hate me as much as she does."

The casual mention of Thorfinn after the evening he'd experienced made Antonin's stomach clench just a bit. He struggled to push thoughts of the Rowles out of his mind. The knowledge that one of the most influential and powerful Ministry officials held a grudge against a young woman not even twenty was surprising. What could she possibly have done to make Dolores Umbridge hate her so much?

"Why do you believe that?" he asked, still unwilling to believe she was guilty.

"In my fifth year I led her out into the Forbidden Forest with Harry."

That certainly didn't sound bad enough to warrant a serious grudge.

"I knew that the centaur herd was restless and angry with humans after I'd visited Hagrid's giant brother Grawp. I thought maybe if we made enough noise tramping through the forest that the centaurs would hear. They promised that they wouldn't hurt foals so I knew Harry and I would be safe. Do you know what centaurs do to captured human women?"

"Yes."

Antonin released a deep breath he'd been holding. And this woman was a supposed warrior for the Light? She knowingly led an enemy into a situation that resulted in her sexual violation at the hands (hooves?) of a violent centaur herd. Obviously neither side in this war was innocent. It was a reminder to Antonin to never cross the petite woman spooned up against him in his arms. She could be downright vicious.

"She crucioed me when I was in the Ministry before my farce of a trial."

Antonin tensed at those words. He found his arms tighten around her instinctively as if he could prevent the pain. Of course he _could've_ prevented the vindictive cunt from attacking his witch if he hadn't been forced to turn her over to the fucking aurors that night in Inverness.

"It wasn't the first time I was tortured," she said. "I daresay it likely won't be the last either."

"Not if I can prevent it."

"Yes, well, that would be preferable. I could _feel_ how much she hated me. When Bellatrix tortured me the pain was unimaginable. When Umbridge did it I sincerely thought I was going to die. I'd assumed Bellatrix was the more powerful witch. I don't understand why Umbridge's hurt so much worse."

"Intent," he answered simply.

Hermione turned around in his arms to look into his face. The room was dark, but with the minimal moonlight and their eyes adjusting to the gloom, they were able to see each other. Antonin ran his left hand through her curls. He was enraptured by their unruliness.

"You have to _mean_ an Unforgivable. Really mean it," he explained. "Bellatrix hated you, I'm sure. She hated a lot of people. That bitch was insane, but it sounds like Umbridge's issues with you were much more personal."

"I'm the reason she was raped and probably multiple times. Doesn't get much more personal than that."

"No, it doesn't. She obviously put her personal hatred for you in when casting. She might not be a powerful witch, but if her hatred for you was powerful enough, the Cruciatus Curse would be much worse."

"You must think I'm a horrible person."

Antonin smiled at her and tried to keep from laughing.

"Yes, Miss Granger, I think you are a terrible person and my opinion as a vicious Death Eater who once tried to murder you… no, excuse me… _twice_. I'm forgetting the little incident in the café where you stripped me of my memories. I've tried to murder you twice and now I've kidnapped you and forced you to share my bed. Yes, my opinion really matters on whether or not you are a good person."

He leaned forward to kiss her lightly on the forehead. She smiled at him in return. They both were painfully aware of how bizarre their situation was even without him putting it all into words.

"This all is really weird, isn't it?" she asked.

"Very."

"I suppose I should be asking you again why you're doing this, but considering I'm warm, fed and not in Azkaban, I'm going to keep my concerns to myself for now."

"I meant what I said when I promised to keep you safe."

Hermione flipped back over so her back was facing him once again. She snuggled back into his chest, non-verbally letting him know that he could wrap his arms around her again. He complied immediately.

"Strangely enough, Antonin. I believe you."

* * *

She was still in his arms when he woke hours later. It was definitely a sensation that he could get used to. He snuggled her closer to his body and inhaled the soothing lavender scent of her hair.

"Is it morning already?" she asked in her sleepy voice.

"I'm afraid so," he answered. "I want you to come downstairs for breakfast with me."

Hermione stiffened in his arms. She'd been able to avoid running into the master of the manor in the two weeks she'd been there. Getting used to living with one Death Eater was hard enough. The last time she'd seen Rabastan Lestrange was the day at the Ministry when he tried to send a Killing Curse in her direction.

"Do I have a choice?" she asked.

Antonin sighed.

"Not really, no."

Hermione pulled herself out of his embrace. She crossed the room towards their closet. Antonin could understand her reluctance, but he didn't want her to hide away in their bedroom or the library forever. Was it wrong that he wanted to show his witch off?

If the angry glare she was shooting at him across the breakfast table was any indication, then yes, it was wrong. From the moment they entered the small dining room set aside for casual family breakfasts and lunches, she had not said a word. Rabastan was already seated in his usual place when they arrived.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," he greeted. "How lovely to finally see you up and about."

"Rabastan…" Antonin warned.

"You are looking well. I assume that Rosie has been taking adequate care of you."

Hermione shoveled a large bite of eggs into her mouth, no doubt in an effort to avoid speaking to the wizard. Antonin rolled his eyes. She was being unpleasant and petulant. Her young age was evident that morning. He gave her a pleading look across the table. She closed her eyes and swallowed.

"Yes, Mr. Lestrange. Rosie has been wonderful," she answered.

"Mr. Lestrange? So formal!" Rabastan exclaimed. "Please, my dear, call me Rabastan. We do live together now after all."

He winked at her causing her to immediately scowl.

"While you are here as my guest, please be certain that you do not lack anything you desire," he continued. "If Antonin is leaving you dissatisfied for any reason, please know that you are always welcome to come knock on my door. It's just down the hall from yours."

Hermione glared at the smirking wizard. She rose immediately from her seat, threw her linen napkin on her plate and rushed out of the room. Based on the direction she turned once she left the room, Antonin assumed she was headed towards the library. Argos who had been waiting patiently for her out in the entrance hall bounced after her.

"Was that necessary, Rabastan?" he growled.

"Lighten up, Antonin. I was just teasing the girl."

Antonin stabbed at the sausage at his plate with an increased fervor.

"Not making much progress, are you?" Rabastan asked. "You need to hurry up and claim her completely before rumors spread that she's not actually your little Mudblood whore as everyone suspects."

Antonin dropped his fork with a clang.

"What exactly are you implying, Rabastan?"

"I'm not sure what your relationship is with the girl or what your _hopes_ for the relationship with this girl could be, but if you're not careful and don't make it _perfectly_ clear that she belongs to you, there might be some others willing to step in and take her from you."

"Like who?" His voice was low and dangerous.

"Oh, I daresay that Thorfinn would be interested once he recovers from that bit of unpleasantness from last night. You know he's obsessed with the girl," Rabastan answered with a shrug of his shoulders. "I'd suggest buying her gifts. Witches love expensive gifts. You should get her something today."

He was stopped from making any further remarks to the man who owned the home he was living in by the sharp burning on his left forearm. Antonin made his excuses as he exited the manor.

Hours later Antonin walked up the High Street in Hogsmeade with Rabastan's advice ringing through his ears. Maybe there was something to be said for buying her a gift or two. Nothing too extravagant. She wasn't the kind of woman who was impressed by fancy, costly gifts. He saw several patrons enter and exit Honeyduke's. While he wasn't sure that she even liked chocolate, it was a traditional gift. Hard to go wrong with a nice box. And if she hated it, he'd eat it himself. He'd always liked chocolate.

He pushed open the door to the candy store and groaned. In the _excitement_ of the past week or so, he hadn't kept track of the days. Based on the lurid displays of reds and pinks around the store, it was obviously Valentine's Day. What a ridiculous holiday. Nonetheless, he pushed past several patrons to make his purchase, sincerely hoping that no one recognized him as he did so.

When he returned back to the manor before dinner, Antonin didn't have a difficult search to find the witch. As she had been almost every single day since she arrived and was able to move about the manor freely, she was ensconced within the library with a drooling, shedding animal in her lap. His arrival elicited a glance up in his direction. She seemed neither pleased nor displeased to see him standing in the doorway.

"Have you been in here all day?" he asked though he didn't need the answer.

"Yes, it's quiet and I've never seen Rabastan in here once. Is the man afraid of books?"

Antonin shooed Argos off of the sofa to sit next to the woman. The dog gave him a dirty look before he loped over to the rug in front of the fireplace.

"I wouldn't be surprised to find that was the truth," Antonin replied.

He reached into his robes to pull out a garishly wrapped box. Feeling embarrassed, he dropped the box on top of the open book she was reading.

"I didn't realize what today was," he said while she unwrapped the paper.

Hermione pulled the paper off of the large box of chocolates and immediately burst into a violent fit of giggles. Yet again that day, Antonin was reminded of her age and by extension, his.

"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly. "These are wonderful. I didn't mean to laugh."

He was curious now.

"What was so funny?"

"I was just thinking that if a year ago you told me that my next Valentine would be a Death Eater who almost succeeded in murdering me, I would've thought you lost your mind."

She began to giggle again as she opened the box. He could see the humor in the situation and conceded with a small smile in her direction.

"I'm honestly not sure I've ever had a Valentine," she admitted. "Well, maybe if you counted Viktor Krum in my fourth year, but he certainly didn't buy me chocolates."

"The Bulgarian seeker?" He raised his eyebrows with interest.

"Is everyone else in the world Quidditch mad besides me?" She rolled her eyes and popped a truffle between her teeth. "I've never been a fan of the game personally."

Antonin chose a chocolate from the box she held out to him.

"How can you not have had a Valentine before?" he asked. "I mean, other than world famous Quidditch players of course."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders.

"No one ever asked me."

"Are all Gryffindor boys idiots?"

She laughed.

"I always thought so," she answered.

Hermione leaned across the sofa and placed a quick peck on Antonin's cheek.

"Thank you for the chocolates."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Hermione fought the drooping of her heavy eyelids for as long as she possibly could. She didn't want to go to bed. In fact, she was terrified to go back up to the room she and Antonin shared. As had been her failsafe through six years of schooling at Hogwarts, she hid in the library. There was a padded window seat on the third level that was hidden from view on the ground floor. If Antonin came looking for her, he wouldn't be able to find her unless he climbed the narrow spiral staircase. Of course it wouldn't be too difficult to ascertain she was _somewhere_ in the library. Argos was asleep in front of the fire and he no longer went anywhere without his new human.

She was frightened to be alone in the bedroom with Antonin after the previous evening especially after he actually bought her an expensive box of chocolates for Valentine's Day. Did he expect something in return? The elaborate dinner she shared with the two Death Eaters she lived with was beyond merely being awkward. If Rabastan wasn't making suggestive comments about her relationship with the usually surly man she was now "shacked up with" as he put it so eloquently, then Antonin was staring at her across the table with an intensity that made Hermione think he knew what she looked like naked. And considering he'd been one of her caregivers while she was out of commission with a high fever, he probably did. It was a giant relief when both men were summoned to their master's side. She finished her dinner and fled to her new sanctuary.

The previous night had been a huge mistake. She should have never allowed Antonin to get so close to her! They'd actually spent the hours sleeping in bed spooned up together like lovers. It was no surprise that she'd given him the wrong impression enough that he felt compelled to buy a bloody Valentine's present!

She'd been so sad and drunk, very drunk. Before the two or three large glasses of fire whiskey she'd consumed the night before, she hadn't even tasted alcohol since one night at Grimmauld Place when Ron stumbled upon Sirius' hidden stash during the horcrux hunt. The three of them passed a full bottle around until it was empty. They'd all been very melancholy, frightened and pissed. That was the first night she and Ron…

Hermione shook her head to banish the thoughts of her first love. Last night she was unused to the strong alcohol. It made her sad, so very, very sad. And Antonin had been there to offer what little comfort a heartless murderer like him was capable of. She clung to it with both hands. It had been so long since anyone had touched her, been tender with her. She hadn't felt cared for by a man since the day of the final battle when Ron pushed her up against a pillar in Salazar Slytherin's deadly Chamber of Secrets, told her he loved her and shagged her silly in the single most passionate encounter of her life. _His_ life too, poor sod.

It had been only too easy to allow Antonin to hold her last night while she cried. Comfort was so scarce these days she really couldn't blame herself too harshly. And his chest had been so firm and his arms so strong. And he smelled fucking fantastic! It had been simple to allow herself to forget who and _what_ the man embracing her really and truly was.

No one had touched her since the final battle if you didn't count the briefest of warm kisses on her cheek from the wizard Ryan she met the night she was captured. It had been nice just to feel normal for a change. Like there was actually someone out there that cared about her. Was that so wrong?

She'd felt compelled to kiss his cheek after she'd opened her gift. Hopefully he hadn't read too much into that gesture especially after the number of tender kisses and touches he'd bestowed upon her the night before. She was scared to return to their room because she was afraid she'd been responsible for shifting the dynamic of their relationship. Would he expect her to always allow him to spoon up behind her in bed? Would he expect more from her? They had never once talked about the kiss he'd laid on her the night he made her start sleeping in the bed with him.

Why did she have to be in this insane situation to begin with? She was living with and at the mercy of a man, two men really, who'd tried and were almost successful in ending her life. Somehow she knew instinctively that Antonin wouldn't harm her, but she couldn't say the same for Rabastan Lestrange. The manner in which he stared at her across the table at meals was unnerving. She knew that given half a chance, Rabastan would have her knickers off in a second whether she wanted them off or not.

"Hermione?"

 _Fuck!_ She chose to ignore her name being called at the foot of the staircase. Maybe if she didn't answer he'd give up. The clang of heavy boots hitting the metal steps as the man climbed the spiral staircase stopped Hermione cold. He continued to call her name as he ascended. When he made it to the second level she could tell that he was searching for her. After a few fruitless minutes the clanging began anew. Hermione reclined across the cushion of the window seat pretending to be dead to the world. It didn't take long before a large hand was gently nudging her awake.

"Come to bed, Hermione," he ordered in a soft tone. "This is no place to sleep. You'll wake up with a stiff neck."

At that point she didn't really care how uncomfortable she would be. She knew he wouldn't just leave her there no matter how much she desired to simply be left alone. Antonin helped her up from the seat. At some point her foot had fallen asleep causing her to lose her balance. She crashed face first into his broad chest and immediately her olfactory senses were assaulted.

Blood.

Blood was soaked into his dark robes and based on a cursory examination of his attire, copious amounts had soaked into the fabric. She could see spots of crimson dot his neck too. It was unsettling to say the least. Just what crimes had he committed in his absence?

"Come to bed," he asked again in an even softer tone. "It's almost four in the morning. You can't hide in here forever."

"Maybe that's exactly my plan," she spat, unable to ignore the wounded expression flashed across his features.

Antonin carefully grasped her elbow in his hand. She immediately wiggled out of the touch.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed, narrowly stopping herself from slapping his face. The consequences of physical violence against this man was not a risk she was really ready to take.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked, furrowing his brow. Antonin didn't seem the least bit angry, only concerned and confused.

"'What's wrong?' You come into this room searching for me covered in _blood_ and you want to know what's wrong?"

Antonin stared down at his soiled robes. He rolled his eyes and sighed. It was apparent he hadn't been aware of the blood on his clothing. The thought that he could be so blasé about what he was seeing frightened Hermione to the core.

"Did you and your mates have a successful night murdering and torturing innocent people?" she asked, her voice rising to a loud, frantic decibel.

"Hermione." His voice was low and dangerous.

"Is this what you do when you are called by your Dark Lord? Did you kill any babies, Antonin? Or were they just dirty, worthless Muggles?"

Antonin grabbed her elbow to pull her slim frame roughly into his chest. His face was only centimeters from hers and she was more frightened in that single moment than she had been since she arrived at the manor. Part of her legitimately feared he was about to add her own blood to the collection on his clothes.

"Do not ask questions you don't want the answers to, _child_ ," he warned.

"Do I not have a right to know what the man I'm forced to share a bed with does when he's not around?" Hermione wasn't sure where her courage was coming from, but she didn't want to back down.

"You know what I am, Hermione," he answered, his voice softer but still quite fierce. "You know what I am capable of."

He reached into a pocket of his robes to pull out a long, silver knife. She immediately felt the urge to touch the hateful slur carved into her arm. She had experience with a knife like Antonin's.

"I used this little blade here tonight to slit the throat of a man known to aid the rebels," he explained. "He and his cow of a wife used to let them sleep in their cellar when they were in the area."

Hermione feared she would throw up all over the maniac.

"I had my orders to use whatever means necessary to get information out of this man," he continued. "When he refused to tell me anything, I began to very slowly and very carefully nick his neck. Very small, of course. Only about a centimeter or so each time.

"He was either very brave or very foolish. I learned a long time ago, _daragaya_ , probably before you were even born how to prolong a person's suffering without actually killing them. It's all about anatomy, biology. You have to truly understand how the body works to keep a person alive who by all accounts should already be dead. If you slice into the neck at just the wrong place, they will bleed out in seconds. You can't get reliable intel from a dead man."

Hermione couldn't keep her eyes off of the knife. She half-expected there to still be blood clinging to the cursed steel, but if she knew Antonin at all, she knew his meticulous nature wouldn't allow him to wander away from a kill without a thorough cleansing of his tools. Firelight from a nearby hanging sconce reflected off of the surface. She could almost imagine what Antonin's most recent victim experienced in the harsh moments leading up to his brutal murder.

"He refused to tell me anything. I had to cut him at least half a dozen times before his resolve started to break down. Still even then he was reluctant. Selwyn paraded his wife in front of him. He slapped her and punched her while her husband watched. The man started screaming at us to leave her alone. Apparently the bitch was pregnant. Didn't want anything to happen to the child. I explained in very clear terms that if he wanted his wife and child safe all he had to do was tell me what I wanted to know."

Hermione tried to swallow the lump that formed in her throat. How anyone could so calmly describe what he was describing was beyond her. What kind of ghoul slept in the space next to her?

"His wife should've been more careful. More respectful. She had the nerve to actually spit on Selwyn. Her husband might've had a proud wizard last name, but she was nothing but a filthy Muggle. Selwyn kicked her repeatedly in her belly. Didn't take long before she was miscarrying the baby. As she bled all over the carpet, Selwyn at least had the mercy to grant her a quick death. Better than Muggles deserve anyway.

"Naturally after his wife was dead I wasn't able to get anything of value from the man. Still continued to torture him however. Sliced his throat…"

Antonin ran a light finger from below Hermione's left ear…

"… inch by…"

… across the middle of her throat…

"…inch."

… and stopped below her right ear.

"He was dead in moments. Bled out next to his wife and the remnants of his unborn child."

Hermione used all of her strength to struggle out of his grasp.

"You are a monster."

Antonin pulled her back into his clutches. Her cheek brushed against one of the blood stains and she really feared she would lose the contents of her stomach all over the man. Antonin placed a hand on her chin and forced her eyes up to meet his.

"Yes, _daragaya_. I _am_ a monster. Maybe you should remember that. Maybe you shouldn't provoke me. I am not a man to be trifled with."

His lips slammed into hers, bruising, crushing, hurting. It was as different a sensation of their first kiss as physically possible. That had been one of tenderness, hesitancy. This was of fire and possession. His harsh tongue, used so recently to hurt and frighten her with his words, struck out to overpower her own mouth, searching, seeking, dominating. He used his much larger body to press hers against a hard bookshelf. She was trapped, unable to move from this wizard straining to overpower her senses with his mouth alone. The kiss felt as if it lasted hours when it really only lasted short minutes. When Antonin removed his lips from the lips of the witch he'd claimed as his own, neither could catch their breath. His dark brown eyes stared into her wide eyes.

"Come to bed, Hermione," he ordered once more.

She obediently descended the stairs without a word. Even though neither of them spoke on the short journey to their bedroom, Hermione could feel him only steps behind at all times. When she pushed open the door to their room, she crossed over to the closet where her pajamas were waiting while he entered the bathroom to wash the evidence of his misdeeds from his skin. He found her lying on the edge of their bed with her back facing his pillows. Antonin crawled under the covers not needing to touch his witch. It was simply enough to know she was there.

* * *

Hermione became an expert at avoiding Antonin for weeks following the incident on the third level of the library. She still shared meals with him in the dining room when he wasn't summoned for Death Eater duties. They continued to share a room and a bed, but she avoided him nonetheless. Part of her wondered if he wasn't feeling at least a tiny bit of shame following his behavior that night. He seemed sullen and withdrawn, but he continued to gaze at her across the table during meals.

"I'm not sure what the trouble in paradise is," Rabastan said over breakfast in early March. "But I hope you two will be able to set aside your differences for a small dinner party I'm hosting tonight."

Hermione dropped her fork at the announcement. Antonin glared in his friend's direction. Rabastan simply laughed at them both.

"Dinner party?" Hermione asked positive that she didn't really want the details.

"Oh, yes, dear Hermione. Just a small one. Only twelve of us," Rabastan answered. "We've all been so very busy lately that I thought a nice meal and some good wine would not come amiss."

"Who?" asked Antonin.

"The usual crowd, of course. Walden, Vince and Gary. I've also invited the Carrows, Cadmus Mulciber, Yaxley and young Thorfinn Rowle. I was even feeling particularly generous and invited Lucius to come along."

Hermione would've rather been buried up to her neck in a fire ant bed than attend. Was she seriously going to be expected to attend? When she made a rather disgruntled remark that was essentially along the lines of she'd rather die than attend, Antonin practically growled at her across the table.

"Must I remind you that we are guests in this house, Hermione? We will both attend."

"Excellent!" Rabastan exclaimed.

Hermione glared at Antonin before excusing herself from the table. She spent the day sulking in the library with Argos.

When dinner was served that evening, Hermione entered the formal dining room several minutes late. It was her own personal form of rebellion that she knew would make Antonin furious. That was an added and welcome bonus.

"Good evening, Hermione," greeted Rabastan when she finally arrived. Every single wizard rose from his seat at her arrival even if a few seemed reluctant to do so. Only a scowling Alecto Carrow kept her seat. "We were all concerned that you wouldn't be able to make it."

Hermione allowed Antonin to pull the empty chair next to him out for her. When she was seated the wizards all took their seats once more. She was seated with Antonin on her left and Lucius Malfoy on her right. It was an awkward placement to say the least, but at least Lucius had somewhat warm words to add to their conversation. Antonin had hardly used words with more than one syllable to address her for weeks.

"How are you enjoying your stay in Lestrange Manor, Miss Granger?" Lucius asked during the soup course.

Hermione turned to give him an annoyed look. As if she was here on a holiday! There were so many answers she wished to give him but the pressure of Antonin's hand lightly squeezing her left thigh cut them off before they got fully formed.

"Lovely, Mr. Malfoy. Absolutely lovely," she replied with a saccharine tone that went unnoticed by no one at the table.

"Wonderful to hear," Lucius replied. "Lestrange Manor is a lovely home. Not as spacious or luxurious as my manor, of course, but _charming_ nonetheless."

"I've been meaning to ask you for a while now, Lucius," said Rabastan. "What is it like living in that large manor without even a single house elf to attend you?"

Laughter broke out amongst the majority of the dinner guests. Lucius kept a smirk on his handsome face. Hermione didn't understand the joke and Thorfinn Rowle was a thousand miles away in his own mind.

"It was certainly an adjustment, but I have been doing splendidly. Thanks for your concern, Rabastan."

"What happened to all of your house elves?" Hermione asked without thinking. "Did you mistreat them so badly that Harry had to come back as a ghost to trick you into giving them all socks?"

Several spoons fell into their bowls around the table. All eyes were on Hermione. Antonin pressed her thigh again before giving her a dark look of warning.

"I am afraid, Miss Granger that following my late wife's traitorous acts in the final battle last May, it was decided by the Dark Lord to remove the servants from Malfoy Manor as a suitable punishment."

"Oh."

She didn't know what else to say to the man. It was an awkward revelation. Lucius leaned down to whisper low enough for only her ears to hear.

"He also saw fit to blast my Dark Mark off of my arm as punishment. That is why I must suffer the barbs of these fools without complaint. I have no rank within this hierarchy."

"I understand the feeling," she whispered back.

Conversations of a more appropriate and less awkward nature began to spring up around the table. Hermione pushed the food around on her plates as course after bloody course was served. She wished to be just about anywhere else. While the hated Death Eaters around the table engaged in discussions that she had no interest in, she took the time to watch her dining companions. Alecto Carrow had spent most of the evening alternating between making moon eyes at Antonin and shooting death glares at Hermione. Several times Hermione had to suppress a giggle at the woman's expense behind her napkin. She wondered if Alecto had any idea how obvious she was being when it came to how she felt about the wizard seated on her left.

Her eyes continued to fall on Thorfinn Rowle throughout the meal. Ordinarily she would've done her utmost to ignore the massive blonde. They did not have a happy history and he made her very uncomfortable. Something was different about him however. She didn't know what it was, but he simply sat at his corner of the table and ate silently. A few times she caught him staring in her direction, but the moment their eyes met across the table he'd drop his back to his plate. It was very uncharacteristic of him. Usually he had a leer or a wink for her. A few of the others would try to engage him in a discussion. He might answer with a shrug of his broad shoulders or a grunt, but never fully engage. She remembered him as always being a wizard with too much to say.

By the time dessert appeared on their plates, most of the dinner party, including Hermione, was well on their way to being drunk. Every course came with at least one or two wine pairings. Usually she would've been content with a couple of sips of each type, but not this night from Hell. She swallowed every drop of wine set before her. She learned that it was easier to endure the company of those around her if she was thoroughly smashed.

"You've been awfully quiet tonight, Thorfinn," teased Rabastan. "Everything all right?"

Snickers erupted around the table. Thorfinn refused to answer, simply gulped the last of his wine.

"Hey, Rowle," started Walden Macnair. "Have you seen your sister lately?"

Thorfinn leapt up from his seat with a murderous glare on his features. Hermione felt frightened but she didn't understand why. The blonde didn't say a word to his taunter. Simply threw his napkin down on his plate and stormed out of the room.

"I miss his sister," added Macnair. "Pretty little thing. I sure hope she is all right."

Some of the wizards and Alecto laughed at Macnair's comments. Hermione could feel the wizard on either side of her tense. There was something more to this story that she was unaware of.

"Hermione, dear," began Rabastan. "This would normally be the point in the evening where the ladies retreated to the drawing room while we men stayed behind to drink brandy and cigars."

Her eyes narrowed in the direction of the only other witch in the room. Alecto was staring back just as intently.

"There is no need for that, Rabastan," Hermione suggested. "I will simply excuse myself. Good evening, Gentlemen, Ms. Carrow."

The men around the table rose the moment she stood up from her chair. She knew that several of them felt that she was unworthy of the honor of the polite behavior they were exhibiting in her favor, but it was no secret that every single body gathered around that ornate table in the Lestrange Manor formal dining room had a healthy respect and fear for Antonin Dolohov. If she'd been just some other wizard's Mudblood, they wouldn't have shown nearly the respect.

Hermione found Argos waiting for her in the Entrance Hall. He followed behind her closely as she made her way to the library. It was her personal sanctuary and she wanted to be as far away from the _esteemed_ guests as possible. She pushed open the library door and was startled to find it wasn't empty.

"Fuck, I should've known you'd come hide in here after dinner," Thorfinn said, rising from the sofa in front of the fireplace. He'd found Antonin's open bottle of fire whiskey and was gulping it down like it was as innocuous as water. "Still a nosy, little swot, aren't you, Princess?"

Hermione was tempted to exit the room as swiftly as possible, but she refused to be pushed out of _her_ library. If someone was going to leave, it was going to be the heavily drunk Thorfinn Rowle.

"I assumed you'd already left," she said, seating herself in an armchair across from the wizard.

"It would be rude to leave a party before it's over," he replied, finishing the last of his glass. "Want one?"

Hermione shook her head. He filled up a second glass regardless. When he thrust the glass into her hand, their fingertips brushed against each other and Thorfinn glared down at her as if she would somehow contaminate him. They sat in silence for several minutes drinking their whiskey.

"You like living here with Dolohov, Princess?"

"I hate when you call me that."

Thorfinn laughed. He'd been calling her Princess since she was twelve years old. She must have begged him to stop a thousand times in the one year they were both in Hogwarts together.

"Princess has a better ring to it than nosy, little cunt, huh?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. It didn't make sense to attempt verbal sparring with a drunken wizard. That was a lesson she'd learned years ago after one of the many wild Quidditch victory parties held in the Gryffindor Common Room.

"I should've claimed you," he whispered into his glass.

Hermione gulped down the rest of her glass and threw it at Thorfinn. He ducked, narrowly missing being beamed in the eye by the heavy tumbler. His expression wasn't one of anger, but of confusion and a bit of awe.

"If you lay one _finger_ on me, Antonin will think up about a thousand different creative ways for you to die," she warned.

Thorfinn raised his hands in a gesture of humility and surrender. He didn't really want to cause any problems.

"I apologize, Princess."

"Why can't I trust a word that comes out of your mouth?"

He smirked, reminders of the wizard he usually was shining through.

"You can trust me, Princess. I won't lie to you."

"I highly doubt that."

He poured her a fresh glass which she carefully took from his hands, making certain that her dirty Mudblood skin didn't brush against his clean Pureblood skin. His reaction to their brush earlier was enough to make Hermione snort in her glass and roll her eyes. The bigotry amongst the Death Eaters could be ridiculous.

"Why are you hiding in here, anyway?" she asked. "Never pegged you much for a library unless you were shagging some fucking slag pushed up against the bookshelves."

"My my, Princess. Your vocabulary has certainly been _expanded_ over the years," he answered with a grin. "Do you suck on Dolohov's cock with that mouth?"

"Fuck you, Rowle."

"Is that an invitation?"

Hermione snorted.

"Not bloody likely! I'd let it close up with cobwebs before I let you anywhere near me."

"You'd enjoy it. I'm very good."

Hermione blamed the mass amounts of alcohol coursing through her system for causing her to find this conversation with Rowle entertaining instead of offensive. Had she not been drunk she probably would've stormed out of the room affronted. Instead she found the casual way they were speaking hilarious. Even Rowle seemed to find it amusing too. Gone was the scowl he had plastered across his face earlier in the dining room. Alcohol had a tendency to make her say things she wouldn't normally. For that matter, so did Thorfinn Rowle.

"What happened to Reina?" Hermione asked, surprising them both with her boldness.

Thorfinn knocked back the last bit of liquid in his glass before answering.

"She's disappeared. I don't know where to. It's my fault. I got her involved in something she never should've been involved in."

"I always liked her. She was just a year ahead of me," Hermione continued. "Sweet girl. Still can't believe she's related to you."

Thorfinn laughed though it might have been more of a sob. Hermione didn't understand why she felt the need to provide any amount of comfort to the wizard seated across from her, but she did. Later she could blame it on the alcohol if she chose to.

"Reina is a smart witch. She can take care of herself. I'm sure she'll be fine."

His piercing blue eyes were filled with unshed tears. He stared into her eyes for several seconds before a laugh, reminiscent of some kind of wounded animal, escaped from his mouth. Thorfinn rose from the sofa and crossed the library in just a few long strides. Concerned for the wizard for a reason she couldn't explain with any sense of clarity or logic, Hermione followed close behind. When he pulled the door to the room open, he almost crashed into the unwelcome form of Alecto Carrow. The witch eyed the two of them with narrowed, suspicious eyes as they passed by her in the corridor.

Thorfinn disappeared somewhere near Rabastan's study. No doubt that was where the rest of the dinner party had adjourned to. Hermione was going to call it a night when her arm was grabbed by an unseen person just behind her. It was her honed instinct to reach for her wand, but she hadn't had a wand since Inverness. Cursing the luck she craned her neck around to see Lucius Malfoy staring down at her.

"Let go of me, Malfoy!" She ripped her arm out of his grasp. "What the bleeding hell do you want?"

A smirk crept up on Lucius' features at her words. He found Drunk Hermione hilarious.

"Are you being treated well?" he asked in a whispered tone.

"What do you care, Malfoy?"

"Is Antonin harming you in any way?"

She didn't appreciate the familiarity of his questions or the manner in which he delivered them. This was not her friend. Not once in her entire acquaintance with Lucius Malfoy had he ever been sincerely concerned about her health and well-being. To corner her in a deserted corridor and physically stop her from leaving was simply too much.

"None of this is any of your concern, Malfoy," she spat. "Kindly leave me alone."

"There are many who are very worried about you, Miss Granger."

Before his words could sink in to achieve their desired effect, Hermione felt another strong arm on her elbow. She didn't even need to turn around to know that it was Antonin standing protectively behind her body. All it took was a few moments of intense staring between the two wizards before Lucius graciously excused himself to meet up with the others inside Rabastan's study. When the blonde was out of the way, Antonin carefully forced Hermione to rotate to meet his eyes.

"What did he want?" he asked gently, concern etched across his face. "Did he hurt you?"

"No, Antonin. I'm fine," she promised.

The wizard wrapped his arm around her arm and led her down the corridor. Hermione didn't want to enter the study with everyone else, but didn't exactly feel as if she had a choice. Antonin led her over to an empty armchair close to the fire. When she lowered herself onto the seat, he sat on the arm. A lively discussion amongst all of the dinner guests continued.

"It would be a massive affair," explained Rabastan. "I want it to be something that everyone talks about for years. You only have one First Anniversary, after all."

Hermione scanned the room, catching Thorfinn in the act once more of staring in her direction. She must intrigue him, especially after their exchange in the library. Determined to ignore the morose stares from the young wizard, Hermione turned her attention to whatever in Merlin's beard Rabastan was discussing.

"I want it to be not only the party of the year, but the party of the decade. The century even!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at his exuberance. She could only imagine what he wanted to celebrate.

"I will invite the Dark Lord, of course. He should be the center of the celebration, the guest of honor!"

There were murmurs of agreement throughout the room. Hermione caught Antonin's eye just as he failed to hide a large yawn. The blatantly rude display in the middle of Rabastan's party planning discussion made her laugh inaudibly to herself. She and Antonin shared a quiet giggle together before he winked down at her from his place on the arm of the chair.

"We will celebrate the First Anniversary of Harry Potter's demise in the greatest of style," Rabastan stated.

Hermione felt her stomach clench at his words. He actually wanted to _celebrate_ the day that her world came crashing down around her, the day that her best friend and her first love died tragically on the floor of the Great Hall. May 2nd was not a day for celebrating. It was a day for mourning. The thought of large, expensive galas going on throughout the country to mark the brutal murder of her best friend broke her heart.

"Of course your presence, Hermione, is requested," Rabastan said with a smirk in her direction. "I simply cannot imagine celebrating that day without you."

"Fuck you, Rabastan!"

Hermione rose from the armchair and stormed out of the study, laughter echoing behind.

* * *

"That was unnecessary, Rabastan," Antonin warned his friend in a low voice when the laughter died down. He hated seeing how upset Hermione was when she left.

"Forgive me, Antonin," he replied, still laughing with most of the other occupants of the room. "I forget you have to deal with the temperamental witch when the lights go out."

Antonin briefly considered lowering himself to a Muggle duel at that moment just to get the fucking disgusting look off of Lestrange's face. The others throughout the room seemed to find his predicament hilarious.

"You should really learn to exert more control over your war prize, Antonin," Rabastan said with a more serious tone. "She is reckless and sometimes just plain rude. Personally, I believe you should place her under the Imperius Curse. Your life would be much simpler."

Laughter rang throughout the room once more. Antonin hated every single person at that moment.

"Or you could leave your witch in my care for a night or two," Walden suggested to continued guffaws. "I could certainly make her more pliable."

In the midst of the raucous laughter, Thorfinn rose from his seat without a word. He exited the room and then moments later the front door was heard opening and shutting. Antonin imagined that Rowle couldn't bear to listen to more thinly veiled references to sexual assault coming from the man responsible for raping his sister repeatedly. He couldn't blame him. Moments after Thorfinn disappeared Lucius made his hasty excuses to leave as well. Antonin didn't care. As far as he was concerned his life would be infinitely better if he never had to see the front of Lucius Malfoy again. The talk around the study continued about the damned party Rabastan wanted to throw. Nothing further interested Antonin. He wanted to check on Hermione. Rabastan was simply trying to get a rise out of her with his remarks and it obviously succeeded.

He slipped out into the hallway with hardly a second glance from anyone else in the room. They wouldn't miss him. Too busy patting each other on the back and planning some Merlin forsaken party that he was going to be forced to attend against his wishes. It was an evening like that night that made him wish sincerely that he had his own home. He'd considered purchasing a place in the past. Perhaps this was the push he needed.

"Antonin?"

The wizard closed his eyes and tried to prevent the groan he was keeping under wraps from escaping. He turned around against his better judgment to find a smirking Alecto Carrow only inches behind him. The bitch still seemed to think that a day would come when he would finally take her up on her demented offers. Antonin was certain that if ever forced to see Alecto's naked body, his eyes might actually, literally melt out of his skull.

"Yes, Alecto?" His tone was gruff. He didn't want to give the witch the impression that he was pleased to be speaking with her when _his_ witch was alone upstairs.

"I've always thought you looked handsome in those robes," she answered, running one of her hands up his arm. He shrugged her hand off his body.

"Is there something I can help you with? I'm very tired and would like to go to bed."

Alecto's eyes constricted at his words. She was not happy.

"You mean you want to go to bed with _her_ , the little Mudblood bitch?"

"My sleeping habits are none of your business, Alecto."

"I just thought you would be interested to know that your perfect Mudblood whore spent quite a long time shut up alone in the library with Thorfinn earlier."

Antonin glared at the woman. That was news to him. Ridiculous sounding news too. It was no secret to him that Hermione hated Thorfinn. The woman was really grasping at imaginary straws.

"I pushed open the door quietly enough that they didn't even hear me," she continued with a demented sneer on her unattractive face. "They seemed awfully comfortable around each other. Talking and laughing over a glass or two of fire whiskey."

Alecto placed both of her hands on Antonin's shoulders. He tensed at the contact, but the bitch couldn't take a hint that her affection was not wanted in the slightest.

"If you ask me, it looked like the Mudblood was seeking out a younger wizard to slither between her thighs. I'm a woman. I know the signs. She wants him, Antonin."

Antonin pushed the witch away from his body with enough force that she landed hard on her arse. Alecto gasped, but he didn't care. If she was wanting to put doubts in his head about Hermione, she picked the wrong wizard to be her counterpart. Hermione wouldn't let Rowle anywhere near her. It was insanity. He wished he could go ahead and Avada the bitch, but the Dark Lord seemed rather fond of the Carrows. He'd have to wait until he could make it look like an accident.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Thanks again to all of my spectacular reviewers! And thanks for all of the Favorites and Follows! They mean so much to me. I didn't expect to update this so quickly, but I may be out of pocket this coming weekend. Another update may not be coming until next week. Thanks again!_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Antonin took one last look at the furious witch still sitting on the floor before heading up the staircase. The murderous expression in Alecto's eyes may have made a third year wet themselves or made a lesser wizard fearful, but it wasn't working on him. He was dangerous, much more so than the heartsick woman glaring at him from the hardwoods of the Entrance Hall. If either of them should be intimidated, it certainly wasn't him.

"Antonin…"

Against his better judgment he allowed the pleading voice below him to hinder his steps. He stopped mid-climb to rotate around to face the witch.

"You'll see, Antonin," she practically screamed. "One day you'll see I was right all along. Your little Mudblood with break your cold, black heart and maybe I won't be around to pick up the pieces."

"Fuck you, Alecto."

He ignored the pained expression on Carrow's face. She meant less than nothing to him. How many times did he have to publicly and privately reject and humiliate the bitch before she got the hint through her thick skull that he was not interested? Had never been interested. Would never be interested. Knowing that she actually enjoyed torturing innocent young witches and wizards was enough to make him hate her without reservation. At least find some worthless Muggles to torture if you were that desperate. Magical blood was precious. There were few enough of them as it was to go around killing and torturing for sport.

He continued to fume all of the way to his bedroom. The more he dwelled on Alecto's words, the angrier he became. Not because he believed her ridiculous notion that there was something untoward going on between Thorfinn and Hermione. That notion was laughable. Hermione was an intelligent enough woman to spot a dangerous cretin when she saw one. He wouldn't put it past Thorfinn to attempt a liaison with the young witch, but Hermione would never allow it to happen. And Antonin was certain that if Thorfinn, or anyone else for that matter, ever tried to force the witch to do something she wasn't interested in when he wasn't around, her new best friend Argos would rip them to jagged, bloody pieces. That was part of the reason he allowed the dog to follow her around even into their bedroom. He wasn't blind. He'd seen the way Rabastan looked at _his_ witch when he thought no one else was looking.

The door to their bedroom wasn't shut completely. Antonin made a mental note to remind the girl of the dangers of an open door in a nest of vipers. The wards allowed the two of them to open the door and as master of the manor, Rabastan could override any of the protections, but no one else could open the door. It was a security feature designed to keep her protected. Walden Macnair walked these halls from time to time, for Rowena's sake! The last wizard he ever wanted alone in a locked room with Hermione was the one sitting downstairs at that very moment joking with the others about the unimaginably brutal rape of Thorfinn's sister. Just the thought of Walden touching Hermione chilled his blood.

Argos was standing just outside the bathroom staring at the door. The dog couldn't bear for Hermione to be out of his line of sight. Even in the middle of the night the mutt would come around the bed multiple times to check on her while she slept. He even came around Antonin's side of the bed during his nightly patrols. The act might have been endearing if the animal didn't insist on breathing on Antonin's face while he tried to sleep. His breath left a great deal to be desired.

The click of the bedroom door shutting drew Argos' attention for a brief moment. He turned to quietly 'woof' in Antonin's direction before pushing the bathroom door open with his nose. Apparently the bedroom door wasn't the only door she had trouble remembering to close completely.

"Damn it, Argos!" a shrill voice yelled from the bathroom. "Out!"

The reprimanded Saint Bernard came running out of the door with such a speed that he almost knocked Antonin off of his feet. With a swift boot to Argos' arse that chastised more than it hurt (Antonin would never hear the end of it he _dared_ to hurt Hermione's dog) the dog ran to his rug in front of the fireplace. Antonin could see into the spacious bathroom thanks to Argos' nosy nature. A nosy nature that Antonin was going to reward later with a large bone from the kitchen.

She was relaxing in the deep tub with fragrant bubbles up to her chin. Even from the doorway Antonin could smell the lavender oil she liked to use. Her unruly hair was pulled up into a messy knot on the back of her neck that was slowly growing damp from the thick steam permeating the entire room. All of the mirrors were fogged indicating that the water in the tub must be close to scalding. She always was cold though. Her eyes were closed and if he hadn't heard her yell at the dog moments before he would've been concerned that she was asleep and at risk of drowning.

"Do you need something or are you just going to stand in the doorway and stare like some kind of perverted peeping tom?" she asked without even opening her eyes.

"Please be more careful with leaving the doors open, Hermione," he answered. "Especially on a night like this when there are guests in the manor."

She opened her eyes to fix a glare in his direction. The water sloshed around in the tub as she turned towards him. Antonin felt his heart rate begin to speed up as the movement revealed more of her upper body than he was sure she would want him to see. He tried to keep his thoughts on other people and events that weren't as stimulating as the scene before him of the young, beautiful, naked woman in his bathtub. _Alecto. Alecto. Alecto._ Even repeated thoughts of the bitch downstairs did little to calm the raging, teenage wizard-like hormones that were coursing through his entire body at that moment. Damn, just a simple look in his direction could make him hard.

"Ah, yes, I forget how many of your mates enjoy a good rape every now and again," she replied, bitterness thick in her tone.

Even her obvious anger and annoyance with his presence did nothing to tamp down the feelings in his trousers. Antonin took a deep breath and carefully readjusted his robes before speaking. Part of him was afraid his tone of voice might give away his true feelings. At that moment he wanted to do nothing less than strip down naked and join the witch in _his_ bathtub.

"I would like to speak to you," he said choosing his words carefully to prevent blurting out the tawdry thoughts running through his brain.

"You _are_ speaking to me," she spat out, splashing the water in her annoyance once more. Antonin almost choked, certain he was going to be unable to keep his hands to himself if she continued. "What do you really want, Antonin?"

Her question caught him completely off guard. Should he be perfectly honest with her? _I would like to discuss what happened between us in the library, apologize for my behavior the past few weeks, figure out a plan for the two of us to live together amicably and then shag the stuffing out of you until neither of us can remember our own names._ He shook the thought from his head. Too much. Definitely too much.

"Do you really want to talk to me or are you simply looking for an excuse to see me naked?"

He attempted to sputter out an appropriate response, but her harsh laughter stopped him cold. She was drunk, disgustingly drunk. This wasn't the morose, guilt-ridden intoxication the night before Valentine's Day that led to uncharacteristic displays of affection on his part and a night spent in his arms. This was a different kind of drunk. This was angry drunk. Mean drunk.

"Well, come on, Antonin, admit the truth," she laughed in that same cruel tone she used when she asked him if he'd been murdering babies the night in the library.

She rose so abruptly from the bathwater that her legs swayed and she almost slipped out. The almost act of tumbling naked out of the tub proved to be hilarious for the intoxicated young woman. She stood clinging to the wall surrounding the bathtub laughing in an unnaturally high pitch. It made Antonin very ill at ease. Especially when his mind cleared enough to see the remnants of the lavender scented bubbles begin to slide down the delicate curves of the witch he'd been fantasizing about for much longer than was proper. Rosie's four meals a day plus snacks were responsible for adding an attractive amount of plumpness to her previously skeletal frame. He was pleased to see that her ribs were no longer visible before he tore his eyes away from her body. A single flick of his wand sent a large fluffy towel flying across the room to envelop the woman.

"I thought you wanted to see me naked," Hermione said laughing again.

Antonin crossed the bathroom to help her climb out of the still-full tub without falling and cracking her head open on the marble. When both of her wobbly feet were safely on solid ground, he released his hold on her frame and turned to leave her to her privacy. He was only steps away before her small hand shot out to grasp his forearm.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"You are drunk, Hermione," he said though it wasn't exactly an answer to her question.

"Very," she replied. "I drank all of the wine at dinner and then I had some fire whiskey in the library with Thorfinn and then I had Rosie bring me some more that I hid under the sink."

Antonin felt his back tense at her admission that she'd been drinking in the library with Thorfinn. He'd assumed that Alecto was full of shit when she said they'd been drinking together.

"You and Thorfinn were drinking?" he asked trying to keep his tone neutral. He didn't have all of the facts yet. No sense being upset before there was reason.

"Yes, he was hiding in the library. His sister is missing. Did you know that?"

"Yes, I heard she was missing."

"She used to tutor me in Charms. Well, on some of the harder ones I struggled with anyway. She was a genius at Charms."

He really had no desire to continue to stand in the middle of the bathroom discussing Rowle's sister.

"Would you please get dressed and then come out in the bedroom to talk to me?" he asked, interrupting her continued reminiscences of life in Hogwarts Castle. She was entirely too talkative under the influence.

Antonin left the bathroom after a muttered agreement from the drunk woman. His stomach (as well as other parts further south) clenched when he saw her unceremoniously drop the towel once more as he pulled the door to the bathroom closed. He wasted no time crossing the room to his personal nightstand to retrieve a sobering potion for the lady. The conversation they needed to have wouldn't be successful if he had to stop her every few moments from disrobing in front of him. Antonin took yet another deep breath and tried to imagine Alecto Carrow naked on a bearskin rug. After a few disgusted shudders, he once more found himself at least somewhat in control of his own body.

She joined him on the sofa only a couple of minutes later. Unfortunately for the wizard only recently back in control of his primal urges, she emerged from the bathroom not in her usual demure purple pajamas but in a light blue silk robe that thanks to the moisture clinging to her curves did nothing to hide her figure. Antonin was certain that she had been sent to punish him for all of his past misdeeds. Hermione sat next to him leaving only an inch or two of space between them. Her small hand brushed against his thigh sending ripples of awkward yet pleasurable sensations through his entire body. She was going to be the death of him.

"Please swallow this," he asked, pushing the potion vial into the hand that had only just ceased rubbing his thigh moments earlier.

"Is that the only thing you want me to swallow?" Her caramel colored eyes twinkled.

"Hermione!"

With a chuckle at his obvious discomfort, she knocked back the potion in a single gulp. Moments later as the liquid began its duty, her cheeks flushed and she nervously pulled her robe tighter. Where she had moments before been brazen, she now was embarrassed. Antonin understood the humiliation of sudden and gradual sobriety after heavy bouts of drinking. There were more than just a handful of binges he wished he could have avoided.

"That works fast," she said, handing the empty vial back to Antonin.

"Yes, well," he replied nervously clearing his throat. "In my line of work it is somewhat necessary to be able to keep a clear head at a moment's notice."

"Oh, yeah? And just what 'line of work' are you in, anyway?"

Her tone was bitter, argumentative and her earlier mortification seemingly forgotten. Antonin groaned before leaning his head back on the back of the sofa. Were they doomed to perpetually have the same argument?

"You know what I meant, Hermione," he answered keeping his eyes closed.

"Yes, I do. Sorry." She didn't sound apologetic in the slightest. "What did you want to talk to me about anyway? We've both been doing a wonderful job of avoiding each other for weeks. Why stop now?"

Antonin sat back up straight to meet the young woman's eyes. She really wasn't going to make this easy on him, was she?

"And would you say that these past several weeks have been pleasant and relaxing, Hermione?" Now his tone was bitter as well.

"Not particularly, no, but I'm a prisoner. Comfort and relaxation aren't exactly part and parcel of imprisonment, are they?"

"You are not a prisoner," he spat, his frustration growing ever higher. "You are under my protection."

"You removed me from Azkaban, Antonin. You didn't remove me from prison."

He wanted to pull all of his hair out and then pull all of hers. While he knew the longer he waited to force the conversation the harder it would be, part of Antonin was seriously considering dropping the subject altogether and disappearing into a bottle of whiskey for the remainder of his ever-increasingly shortened life. Were all bleeding Gryffindors this stubborn? If so, it was no wonder he never dated any of the lionesses while in school. They would've either killed him or left him longing for death!

"If I weren't a prisoner," she continued. "I wouldn't be forced to attend a celebration of the murder of my best friend."

"I am truly sorry for how Rabastan behaved downstairs, Hermione. It was crass and unnecessary."

"Everything about that man is 'crass and unnecessary'. I've grown to expect nothing less from him. What angers me is that I know regardless of my very strong feelings and desires, you are going to force me to attend."

"We are guests in this house."

"No, Antonin! _You_ are a guest in this house. _I_ am your captive. Do not forget that fact for a moment. I am _not_ here willingly."

He released a deep exhale. This was definitely not going as he planned it earlier in the day while he showered. He'd come up with a plan to discuss the incident in the library and then bring them back to a place where they were at least speaking to one another. If he thought crawling into an empty bed was lonely, he had been sorely surprised to find how even more lonely it could be to lay next to a woman who won't speak to him night after blessed night. More than once he'd considered sneaking into an empty guestroom for a few nights, but he knew the walls had ears. If Rabastan or any of his other "comrades" learned that she wasn't his "Mudblood whore" like they all assumed, they both could be in serious trouble. He didn't need to call attention to his weak spot to a kettle of vultures.

"Believe me, Hermione, I am more than aware of your circumstances for being here," he finally said with a deceptively calm voice.

"Then please stop pretending like I have a choice in what I do. I will attend Rabastan's fucking party, but not because I want to. But I swear to all that you or he hold sacred… I swear on your precious Dark Lord himself, if he parades me out in front of his guests like some kind of Order of the Phoenix sideshow freak, I will kill him with my bare hands."

He believed her too. The fiery spark in her eyes caused a stirring in him not unlike what he'd experienced earlier in the bathroom. She likely had no clue how attractive she was when she was angry and intent on murder. Even her hair sparked with energy when she was mad. He shifted in his seat hoping she couldn't see the effect she was having on him.

"That is a fair enough request," Antonin replied. "I will speak with Rabastan. While I don't believe he had any plans to 'parade' you around his party, I will make certain that he understands that is not an option."

"Thank you, Antonin. I appreciate that. I really do."

Neither spoke for several long minutes. Antonin wasn't sure where to even begin. There was a great deal that still needed to be discussed.

"About that night in the library," he started.

Hermione laid a hand on top of his.

"We don't have to, Antonin."

She moved to pull her hand away but he reached out to grab it before she could. He wasn't sure what possessed him to do so. He felt that at least some basic physical contact was necessary to continue.

"Yes, I do, Hermione."

"No, Antonin. You don't have to explain yourself or Merlin, _apologize_ for what happened that night," she insisted. "I know what you are. I know what you are capable of."

"Do you really?" He didn't intend to sound flippant or disingenuous. It was simply how his voice slipped out of his mouth.

"Yes, Antonin. You are a Death Eater. You have been one for longer than I've been alive. While I don't know the details of everything you are ordered to do or everything you _choose_ to do, I know enough."

"Hermione…"

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not excusing you by any stretch of the imagination. What you and the others like you stand for is utterly deplorable. Some day you will all be forced to sit in judgment for your crimes whether it is before the Wizengamot or before your Maker. We will all be called on to answer for our crimes, Antonin."

He knew that. Despite not having a religious bone in his body and believing that Hell was simply a place on Earth guarded by dementors, he knew she was right. One day he would pay for slitting the man's throat that night and for standing by doing nothing while Reina Rowle was raped. His only hope was that maybe there could be some time where he could live a quiet life where violence wasn't necessary. Maybe move to a small house on the coast and have a family first. He was pretty certain he'd like that.

"I wish we didn't have to live in this house," he blurted out with hardly any thought.

"So do I," she agreed. "It's awful. I won't lie and say it's worse than living rough in a freezing tent alone, but it is close."

"What did you call it before? A 'gilded cage'?"

She smiled up at him before squeezing his hand.

"Exactly, she replied, dropping his hand. "I feel like a pretty bird sitting in a cage while dozens of hungry cats prowl around the outside waiting to devour me."

It was certainly a fair analogy. Antonin knew that she considered him just another one of the starving animals circling her cage. He tried to convince himself that it didn't bother him that that was how she saw him, but no matter how accomplished of a liar he was with everyone else, he'd never been able to lie to himself with ease.

"I've considered purchasing a small home somewhere near the ocean," he admitted quietly. When her eyes lit up and met his he found he could hardly breathe. "Somewhere quiet. There are too damn many people traipsing in and out of this house at all hours. I'd love to live somewhere that I didn't have to constantly be afraid to find Alecto Carrow just around the next corner."

A shrill giggle that was music to his ears escaped the young woman sitting next to him. Hermione covered her smiling face with the palm of one of her hands, but the damage had already been done. When their eyes met once more neither of them could contain their laughter any longer.

"Did you see the looks she kept giving you across the table all through dinner?" Hermione asked, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Unfortunately, I wasn't able to completely ignore them," he replied, wiping his own with the back of his hand.

"It's a good thing you can't get pregnant from looks alone because I think after tonight you'd be a daddy," Hermione teased.

Antonin groaned at the thought of a child born of Alecto with half of his genes. It didn't bear thinking. He could've been in danger of expelling the contents of his stomach back into the world if Hermione's giggling next to him hadn't distracted his line of thinking.

"She accosted me in the Entrance Hall. Rubbed my arm and my shoulders." He shuddered at the memory as Hermione's laughs grew louder. "Said I looked very handsome in my robes."

"Well, she's not wrong," Hermione said, surprising the wizard. "Dark blue does indeed look very good on you, but I would never dream of approaching a man clearly not interested in me to feel him up."

Antonin carefully pushed a stray curl that had escaped from its knot behind Hermione's ear.

"And what if the man clearly _was_ interested in you?" he asked not daring to breathe.

The smile fell off of Hermione's face at his words. She dropped her eyes from his to stare at the floor.

"'O, that way madness lies,'" she whispered.

He didn't know how to respond. One the one hand she was correct. It was madness to attempt to develop any kind of lasting relationship between the two of them. Their circumstances were so bizarre; they were so different. On the other hand, Antonin had never wanted to try anything else with such a passion in his entire life. Failure seemed like such an unlikely possibility.

"You hardly know me, Antonin," she said, breaking through his thoughts. "You've obviously built up this image in your head of who I am. While I'm certainly flattered that you obviously think so highly of me, I'm afraid it's all just a fantasy."

Hermione rose from the sofa to disappear into their large closet. She emerged a few minutes later dressed in her purple pajamas. With a scratch to Argos' head and the lightest brush of her hand on Antonin's right shoulder, she slipped into their bed. Some time later when he joined her he noticed a barely perceptible shift of her body closer to the center of the bed. Progress.

* * *

An entire week passed with no major incidents. Both Hermione and Antonin avoided any further discussion of their conversation following the dinner party, but their interactions were friendly and even a bit warm. They felt free enough to spend time together in the library each wrapped up in their own volume. Meals with Rabastan were bearable again now that they were freely conversing once more. Even the master of the manor was pleased with the shift.

"You are both much more likeable when you aren't angry with each other," Lestrange mentioned over breakfast.

Hermione caught Antonin's eye across the table and smiled. He easily returned the gesture. While no mention had been made to the fact that he'd all but openly declared his attraction for the witch, he couldn't help but overanalyze the ready smiles she seemed to have only for him, the light touches to his arm or shoulder throughout the day for various reasons and the way she continued to inch ever closer to him each night in their bed. No one had ever accused Antonin Dolohov of being an optimist, but he was hopeful that as Hermione grew more comfortable and at ease in his presence their relationship might continue to evolve into something more substantial than captor and captive.

"Oh, Antonin, I heard the most delicious rumor yesterday evening and I am anxious to find out if it's true," announced Rabastan.

"What rumor?" he asked, only mildly interested. Rabastan hosted a small gathering of wizards the evening before while Antonin unashamedly hid in the library with Hermione.

"Augustus saw Lucius in Diagon Alley the other morning," Rabastan explained.

"Ooh, you're right, Rabastan. Very juicy news," teased Hermione.

"Not to worry, my dear Hermione. There is a bit more to the story."

He winked in her direction and Antonin briefly considered hexing him.

"Augustus said that he found it a bit strange that Lucius was buying large amounts of food and personal hygiene products…" Rabastan stared back and forth between the other two seated at the table as if expecting them to understand exactly what he was getting at. "… for a _witch_."

He was noticeably disappointed when his news didn't garnish the kind of reaction he was expecting.

"Maybe he's just stocking up on food," suggested Hermione. "And he's vain enough that I wouldn't put it past him to be using the witch's hygiene products on himself. I mean, have you actually _seen_ his hair?"

Antonin nodded his head in agreement. This was not that interesting.

"Okay," agreed Rabastan. "But then can you explain the order he placed for witch's robes at Madam Malkin's?"

Hermione caught Antonin's eye across the table again. She smiled at him and then burst out laughing. Antonin couldn't help but follow her train of thought. Rabastan, as always, was lost.

"Lucius is very pretty," said Antonin. "Perhaps he enjoys dressing in witch's robes when he's alone."

Hermione hid her face behind her napkin, her cheeks flaming red with amusement.

"Oh, I see," Rabastan said, finally understanding. "Very cheeky, both of you. I wasn't finished explaining."

"Excuse us, Rabastan. By all means, continue," Hermione replied.

"Augustus was curious, understandably because Lucius has been living alone since his horrible wife was executed by their son. He asked and learned that Lucius is expecting his goddaughter to come stay with him at the manor for a while."

"That sounds nice for him," Antonin answered, confused why this was such news. Why should they care that Lucius Malfoy was having a guest in his home?

Rabastan was visibly annoyed that neither of them understood why he was so excited. He sighed loudly from the head of the table.

"His goddaughter is Arcturus Black's and Eleanor Fawley's daughter," he explained. "Do you _remember_ Eleanor Fawley, Antonin?"

Antonin couldn't suppress the snort that escaped as he took a sip of his orange juice. Arcturus Black wasn't anyone of any note. He was Narcissa Malfoy's cousin who was several years ahead of Antonin in school. He married the beautiful Eleanor Fawley a month after she left Hogwarts. Ten months later they had a daughter and four months after that Black was dead under some very suspicious circumstances.

"Who is Eleanor Fawley?" Hermione asked.

"The school broom," Antonin stage-whispered across the table to make her laugh.

"Now now, Antonin. That was unkind," admonished Rabastan. "She wasn't _that_ free with her affections."

"Did you get a ride, Antonin?" Hermione asked.

He laughed at her question.

"No, I'm afraid that I missed out on that privilege," Antonin answered with a laugh. "Miss Fawley was a bit of an elitist. She only allowed purebloods to take a ride. Studious Ravenclaw halfies were beneath her notice."

His answer surprised her if the expression on her face was any indication.

"You're a halfblood?"

"Yes, Hermione. My mother was Muggle born."

"Our Antonin has always had a bit of a soft spot for the Mudbloods… excuse me, Muggle borns," teased Rabastan.

Hermione smiled at Antonin across the table, ignoring Rabastan's use of the slur she hated. It was part of Rabastan's 'charm' that she had learned to live with in the almost two months she'd been living under his manor roof.

"I was planning on dropping in on Lucius," Rabastan announced. "I'd like to see if his goddaughter is as shaggable as her mother always was."

Both Antonin and Hermione rolled their eyes at his announcement.

"Please come with me tonight, Antonin," he begged. "Only Vince is free tonight and you know how abysmal conversation is with him. I need someone with a brain to join us. You could even bring Hermione if you wish."

The scowl on the witch's face expressed her feelings on the subject. He could sympathize, of course. Spending an evening in Lucius' drawing room sipping his pretentious wine and listening to him speak didn't sound like a diverting evening. If he had to attend, however, he didn't want Hermione to remain behind.

* * *

At almost nine o'clock that evening Antonin and Hermione approached the gates of Lestrange Manor. Neither of them were excited about their evening ahead. Before they reached the gate, Antonin reached out to place a hand on her waist. She tensed at the contact, but didn't pull away.

"I'm sorry that I have to do this, Hermione," he said, waving his wand and muttering a quiet incantation. Immediately they both felt a tugging around their waists as if a rope was tied around them and pulled.

"Oh, but I'm not a prisoner," she whispered bitterly. When she saw the wounded expression on his face, she groaned. "I'm sure this is simply for my protection."

He didn't want to argue with the witch. They had been getting along so well in recent days. As much as he hated magically tying the woman to him, he knew he couldn't risk her trying to escape. If somehow she managed to get away from him, she was at the mercy of anyone who might find her. And even then Antonin might be deemed to be an unfit guardian by the Dark Lord. She could end up forced to be _protected_ by one of his brethren. Yes, he would have to suffer the ignominy of binding the witch to his body for the evening. She wouldn't be able to move further than fifteen feet away from wherever he was standing.

"Come on, Hermione. Let's get this over with."

Antonin grasped her hand in his before stepping past the gates. Rabastan had temporarily lifted the wards that kept her confined to the grounds. He promised to bring them back up the moment they returned later that evening. It certainly wouldn't do to wake up the next morning to find out that Hermione had bolted. The cool evening air blew a few of her lavender scented curls into his face. Hermione took hold of his arm to allow him to Side-Along Apparate them to Malfoy Manor.

When the squeezing sensation was complete, Antonin was surprised to find that the witch had not released her grip on his arm. In fact, she seemed to be holding his arm tighter in her little fist. He placed his free hand on top of the hand squeezing his bicep in an effort to reassure the woman. He couldn't help but notice that all traces of color that were normally present on her attractive face had all but drained away the moment they arrived at the gates of the manor.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" he asked in a whisper to keep Rabastan and Vince Crabbe from being able to hear his words.

She looked up at him with eyes full of tears and a shaky smile.

"I didn't exactly have the best visit the last time I was here," she whispered back. "Just kind of struck me when I saw the house. I'll be all right in just a moment."

He'd forgotten about Hermione and her friends being dragged into Malfoy Manor in the height of the war. The details weren't public knowledge, but he distinctly remembered Fenrir Greyback being very angry that Bellatrix offered him 'Potter's Mudblood' as a reward, but somehow managed to lose her captives at the tiny hands of a rebellious freed house elf. Based on the strength of the squeeze of her hand, it must have been a terrible experience.

"Lucius should be releasing the wards any moment now," Rabastan said to the small group gathered.

As if on cue, all four of them felt the tingle through their bodies indicating the dropping of the secure wards surrounding the Malfoy grounds. Hermione released her grip on Antonin's arm before they crossed through the open gates. He reached down and claimed her hand in his. She favored him with a small smile, thankful for the small amount of support. It took them a few minutes to navigate the long driveway. By the time they arrived at the front door, Lucius was waiting for them with a broad smile.

"What a pleasant surprise to have so many guests," he said with a smile that Antonin could tell was about as forced as possible. He wondered if the wizard was in danger of chipping his perfect teeth with such an enforced face. He privately hoped so. "Please come in."

The four unexpected and uninvited guests crossed the threshold into Malfoy Manor. Antonin felt the pressure on his hand increase with each subsequent step into the entrance. When Lucius led them all to the ornate drawing room, Antonin was afraid for a moment that he was going to lose all circulation in his hand. Hermione was clinging to him with a force he hadn't been expecting.

"Look who has decided to drop in to surprise us this evening, Draco," Lucius said to the young wizard standing by the fireplace in the drawing room. "Draco has been given a free evening to come visit his lonely father. He's in the middle of an apprenticeship with Horace Slughorn at Hogwarts. Draco, come greet our guests."

Antonin shook the younger Malfoy's hand as swiftly as possible in order to retain his grip on Hermione's sweaty and trembling hand. Part of him grew a bit jealous when the young wizard placed both of his hands on Hermione's shoulders to gently squeeze before leaning down to place a kiss on her cheek. He whispered something into her ear, he was certain, but couldn't make out the words. Hermione smiled up at the young wizard with eyes full of tears. She allowed Antonin to lead her over to an empty armchair that he immediately transfigured into a cozy loveseat.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" he asked for the second time that evening.

She smiled up at him and silently assured him that she was. Antonin was unnerved by the visit and it had only lasted for five minutes so far. Lucius wasted no time pouring all assembled a liberal glass of red wine. Hermione practically gulped hers down in no time at all. He couldn't blame her. She wasn't the only one who spent time lying on the intricate hardwood floors of that room under the influence of a powerful Cruciatus Curse. He hated this manor just as much as she did.

"What do I owe the pleasure of such unexpected company this evening?" Lucius asked the assembled group.

"Vince and I were just discussing how long it has been since we were able to take advantage of your hospitality and your extensive wine cellar," Rabastan answered.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Antonin smirked back at her causing her to laugh quietly enough for only them to hear. Rabastan was an unconvincing liar.

"You are all, of course, welcome any time," Lucius replied. "I receive so few guests these days that I always enjoy the novelty."

"But Rabastan, you said his goddaughter was staying here," Vince said, proving his lack of intelligence once again.

Lestrange placed a restraining hand on Vince's arm before laughing unpersuasively to the group.

"Well, we did hear a rumor that Arcturus Black's daughter was staying here," he confessed to his host. "I felt an obligation to come pay my respects to her out of respect for her father."

"He's lying, Lucius," added Antonin. "I believe his exact words were, 'Let's go find out if she's as shaggable as her mother always was'."

"Antonin, you shame me!"

Lucius gave a curt smile to Rabastan and Vince who were the only ones laughing in the room. Everyone else was visibly unnerved by their behavior. The awkwardness of the moment might have continued for longer if the door to the drawing room didn't open at that second. All of the men in the room stood from their seats at the arrival of a young woman several years older than Hermione. She was obviously nervous to be in the room with the guests. Hermione knew the feeling and it was obvious to Antonin that she sympathized immediately with the anxious witch.

"Allow me to introduce my goddaughter, Gentlemen, Miss Granger," Lucius said, placing a brief kiss on the woman's cheek and taking her hand in his. "This is Isla Black-Fawley."

Hermione met the worried eyes of Miss Black. Antonin couldn't help but notice what looked like a spark of recognition in Miss Black's face when she made eye contact with the other woman in the room. A shy smile crossed her face that Hermione hesitantly returned.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Malfoy Manor loomed up ahead causing Hermione's heart rate to steadily increase to what she feared might be a dangerous pace. Was she too young to have a massive heart attack? She hadn't been in the best of health since she left her parents' house almost two years earlier. Maybe all of the stress, near starvation and curses she sustained in the final months of the war weakened her body. Nineteen year olds don't usually die of cardiac arrest, but seeing the location of the scariest single night of her life made her worry she might become the exception that proved the rule.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" Antonin asked, careful to keep his voice low enough for only her ears.

She could feel her eyes begin to fill up with tears as the memory of another March evening ran through her mind. Antonin's reassuring squeeze of her hand brought her a small amount of comfort that she appreciated immensely. She tried to blink away her tears before looking up into his worried face with a small smile.

"I didn't exactly have the best visit the last time I was here. Just kind of struck me when I saw the house. I'll be all right in just a moment."

With a tightened grip of Antonin's arm she allowed him to lead her into the manor after the long walk up the drive. All of the wizards around her began speaking with their host once inside the entrance hall, but Hermione didn't hear a word they said. She knew she was hurting Antonin's hand with the strength of her nervous squeeze. He never said anything. Simply allowed her to cling to the one somewhat friendly ally she had in the manor. When they crossed the threshold into the drawing room she was a bit concerned she might faint.

"Draco, come greet our guests," ordered Lucius Malfoy.

Her school rival wasted no time in walking across the room to where they were standing. He had the warmest smile across his handsome face that Hermione had ever seen. In the past he'd only looked down his nose at her with hurtful sneers or insulting smirks. The expression changed the entire look of his face making him appear even more handsome. To say she was surprised when he gently squeezed her shoulders in an affectionate manner and then actually brushed his lips across her cheek would be an understatement of epic proportions. If he had approached her the same way in the past she would've been positive he was being disingenuous, but for whatever reason, she could sense his true feelings at that moment. He was pleased to see her standing in the very room she was once tortured in.

"Luna sends her love," he whispered directly into her ear. "We have been very worried about you."

When he broke away from the embrace she couldn't stop herself from staring up into his grey eyes with an expression of confusion and awe across her countenance. She could feel the tears prickling her eyes again. What could he possibly have meant? Luna? Luna Lovegood? Where was she and how could she be in contact with Draco Malfoy? A million more questions raced through her mind as she once more allowed Antonin to lead her across the room. He enlarged an armchair with a simple Transfiguration spell before carefully helping her lower herself down on the loveseat.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" he asked once more.

She tried to assure him with a silent smile that she would be all right. His intense dark brown eyes continued to examine her as she ignored the conversations around her and practically chugged the red wine Lucius offered her down. After several minutes of inane discussion that Hermione cared nothing for, they were all joined by a pretty witch several years older than she was. Lucius placed a swift kiss on the woman's cheek as he introduced her to the assembled guests. The two women caught each other's eyes across the room and despite having never laid eyes on the witch in her life, that she was aware of anyway, Hermione couldn't help but feel as if she knew Lucius' goddaughter.

"This is Antonin Dolohov and his _consort_ Hermione Granger," Lucius said as he introduced Miss Black around.

Hermione glared at Lucius before shaking her hand. It was obvious even to a stranger how nervous Miss Black was to be around so much company. Hermione could sympathize. If she'd had her way she'd still be back at the _other_ manor snuggled up with Argos alone in the library.

"Have you met her before?" Antonin asked in a whisper once they settled back down on the loveseat.

"I don't think so," she admitted.

"She seemed to know you."

"I'm sure she's seen my photograph in the papers. Have you forgotten how bloody famous I am?"

Antonin narrowed his eyes at the response, but did not continue to press her for more information. She was too old to have attended Hogwarts at the same time as Hermione, so she assumed that she must have just been following the news of her capture and the farce of a trial she was forced to endure. Of course there were plenty of people that Hermione had met over the years since joining the wizarding world. Was she expected to recognize every single one of them? At the risk of sounding like a spoiled Hollywood starlet, should she really be expected to _remember_ everyone that she was introduced to? Against her wishes, Hermione was one of the most famous witches in the country. It wouldn't even much of a stretch to claim the title of "Most Famous Muggle Born" either. She was one of the worst offenders in the eyes of the Ministry's Muggle Born Registration Commission. They'd been looking for her since before Harry was murdered.

"And finally, this gentleman is Mr. Vince Crabbe," Lucius said, taking Miss Black around to the last Death Eater assembled in the room.

Crabbe wasted no time in taking her hand to press it his lips. Hermione certainly couldn't blame the woman for immediately ripping her hand out of his grasp and for the horrified expression that crossed her face. Crabbe was disgusting. Even worse than his idiot son who once tried to murder three of his classmates. It took Hermione approximately half a second after meeting the elder Crabbe to be completely unnerved and repulsed. His eyes always gave the impression that he was imagining just exactly what you looked like underneath your robes. No doubt he was one of the ones that Lord Voldemort used to implement his sexual tortures of various enemies. Antonin all but confirmed that fact when he expressly forbade Hermione from ever being alone in the same room with the wizard.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Black," Crabbe crooned, either ignoring or completely ignorant of the sickened look the witch was giving him.

Lucius placed a reassuring hand on the small of her back to lead her away from the others. When she was seated in a chair directly across from Hermione, the younger witch smiled at her in a show of solidarity. She understood all too well what it was like to be forced to socialize with the dregs of society. She did so frequently at Lestrange's manor.

"I understand, Miss Black, that you have been living in America since you were a young child," Rabastan said, also ignoring the tension that was ever-present in the room. "How long will our country be privileged to experience your presence?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she gulped down another full glass of wine. Her _host_ certainly knew how to lay it on thick. She wondered if Rabastan knew how completely transparent he was at all times. Did he really believe he was as smooth of an operator as he believed he was? _Azkaban obviously rotted his brain_ , she thought.

"Yes, I moved to the states when I was ten," Miss Black answered. "I'm not sure yet how long I will be staying."

"Eleanor requested that I take her daughter under my wing and attempt to cure her of some of her more _American_ conducts," explained Lucius with a hint of a shudder.

"An indefinite visit, then? How marvelous." Rabastan winked at the embarrassed witch which only caused her cheeks to flush a brilliant crimson.

There was a slight lull in the conversations. No one seemed to know how to proceed. Hermione found herself staring at the mantel clock watching the hands tick by.

"Miss Black, I noticed the brace on your wrist," continued Rabastan after a time. "Did you injure yourself?"

Isla Black-Fawley instinctively pulled her injured wrist closer to her body with her uninjured hand. It was obviously a subject that she didn't wish to discuss, but no one had ever accused Rabastan Lestrange of being observant when it came to social cues.

"I had a bit of a fall shortly after I arrived," she explained, her voice hardly louder than a whisper.

"Oh no! Lucius, you must take better care of your guests!" Rabastan admonished. "What happened?"

Her cheeks reminded Hermione strongly of the manner in which Ron used to blush when he was angry. _Poor girl_. She dropped her eyes to the floor. Thankfully, Lucius took pity on his goddaughter.

"I am afraid she fell off her broom," Lucius explained. "She was flying over the estate grounds and lost her balance, poor thing. Fell twenty feet straight to the ground and landed on her wrist."

"How awful!" Rabastan exclaimed and Crabbe agreed. "I'm glad to see that you didn't fall on your pretty little neck, Miss Black."

She dropped her eyes once more to the floor. Hermione immediately felt protective of the woman despite their differences in ages. The women had something in common. Neither of them wanted to be stuck in that room for a moment longer. Unfortunately for Hermione however, she was magically tied to Antonin's waist. She was stuck until he was ready to leave.

"It was a simple break," Lucius continued. "I was able to heal it without any issue, but it was recommended that she keep her wrist in that brace for a couple of weeks until it was stronger."

"Well, that is good to hear. Lucius, please try to take better care of your lovely goddaughter. I'd hate to come back to visit only to learn that she's fallen down the stairs or tripped into the fountains," Rabastan laughed.

"I promise."

Hermione was anxious to leave the home as soon as possible. Why she ever allowed Antonin to drag her out to visit the one place she had no desire to ever return to, she was unsure. Well, it wasn't exactly like she had much of a choice. He would've made her attend with him regardless of her own personal desires. She leaned back in the loveseat and stopped paying attention to the conversations around the room.

She wasn't sure how much time passed with Rabastan asking increasingly impertinent questions of the woman. Time seemed to drag even more slowly than usual in the drawing room. Maybe there were remnants of Dark Magic left over from the Dark Lord's temporary residence? Hermione would not have been surprised to find traces of Dark Magic in every corner of every room in the horrible place. How any person could willingly live in such a place was beyond her. Yes, the furnishings were luxurious and quite lovely. She imagined that Lucius Malfoy would never _dare_ to rest his precious skin on anything less than 1500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. The wine cellar in that house must also be incredible, but nothing could induce her to spend even one night there of her own free will.

The discussion quickly moved on to Rabastan's ridiculous party in May. It was no surprise that he all but insisted that Miss Black attend as his personal guest. The woman seemed uncomfortable by all of the attention. Rabastan then went on to be sure to invite Lucius as well to make her feel a bit more at ease. Hermione sighed. She'd rarely been so bored. At that moment she would've gladly joined in on a conversation about Quidditch if it would get Lestrange to stop talking for a moment. Antonin periodically made an addition to the overall discussion, but Hermione had nothing to say. She didn't want to actually encourage anyone present to speak to her directly. Except maybe for Draco. She was anxious to find out what he meant about Luna. It was the first she'd heard about the eccentric girl since the day of the final battle Rabastan was so keen on celebrating.

"You must come, Miss Black," Rabastan all but begged. "Lucius, please bring your lovely goddaughter. I cannot imagine throwing such a celebration without her in attendance."

"I am not sure…" began Lucius.

"Nonsense! You are both coming. What better way to ensure that she meets all of the _right_ people? I am certain Eleanor would approve," he continued.

The American-raised witch seemed as excited by the prospect of the party as Hermione was. Hermione could certainly sympathize on yet one more item. Privately she wondered if she could feign some disgusting illness that day to be allowed to stay locked up inside her bedroom. _Probably not. Antonin would figure out I wasn't sick and I'd never hear the end of it._ If she could somehow make herself _actually_ sick… It was an idea that had some merit.

"Will all of the loyal followers of the Dark Lord be attending, Mr. Lestrange?" asked Miss Black with a voice quiet enough that she was almost ignored completely by the assembled group.

Rabastan turned his brightest smile on the woman. He actually seemed almost normal that evening to Hermione's amusement. Lately he'd grown ever more disgusting and exhausting with the innuendos and glances in her direction that needed no interpretation when Antonin was not around. On more than one occasion she had walked out of her bathroom after Antonin had left the manor for a summons or to complete one of the mysterious errands he was always running only to find Rabastan either just entering the bedroom or just exiting. Argos had been mysteriously struck with a silencing spell a couple of times after one of these incidents. While she was fully aware that Antonin frequently silenced her dog while he was trying to sleep at night no matter how hard he tried to hide the fact from her, he always released the spell in the mornings when he awoke. After informing her "protector" of her suspicions about Rabastan entering their room when she was alone in the bath or shower, Antonin informed her that unfortunately there were no wards that could keep the master of the manor out. He simply asked her to remain vigilant and to always take Argos with her into the bathroom from then on. She promised, but now preferred to wait to bathe until she knew Antonin was home and preferably on the other side of the bathroom door. If Rabastan could turn his creepy obsession into Miss Black's direction, she would welcome the change. Lucius was a capable enough wizard to keep his goddaughter adequately protected.

"I have extended an invitation to all of my fellow Dark Lord supporters, Miss Black. I imagine that a great many of them will be planning on attending," he answered. Rabastan stopped for a moment before turning his widest smile back on the young woman. "My dear, is there someone in particular that you are hoping will attend?"

Miss Black's cheeks blushed furiously once more that evening before she dropped her eyes to examine the rug. She was not a woman in complete control of her emotions. _Poor girl_ , Hermione thought despite the fact that she had to be at least five or six years younger. _You won't survive long in this world if you can't keep your emotions under control better than that._ An almost awkward spattering of laughter sounded across the room.

"Lucius, old man, have you been introducing your beautiful goddaughter around to younger, more handsome wizards?" tsked Rabastan in a playful tone. "How am I expected to compete?"

Lucius gave Rabastan a tight smile. Hermione wished she could curse both men into oblivion. She didn't care if Lucius was Draco's father and her former rival was bringing her messages from one of the people in her life she longed to see again. Hermione would gladly submit herself to a three hour lecture about the elusive Crumple Horned Snorkack if it meant she could see Luna's beautiful, dreamy face again.

"We will make every effort to attend, Rabastan," promised Lucius.

"Excellent! Draco, you are, of course, invited to attend as well."

"Thank you, Rabastan. If my schedule will allow it, I would be delighted to attend," Draco replied with a nod in Lestrange's direction.

"Try to tear yourself away from the Umbridge Home for a night, Draco my boy," laughed Vince.

Hermione's head immediately snapped into Draco's direction after Crabbe's comment. Her eyes met his cool grey eyes for half a second before his pale visage turned slightly pink with embarrassment. While she could never claim to actually _know_ Draco Malfoy very well, she certainly couldn't imagine that he was one of those disgusting creatures who took pleasure in participating in what Antonin called government sanctioned rape. His blushed cheeks, however, told a completely different story. Hermione felt her stomach churn at the thought.

"Lucius, were you aware that you will soon be a grandfather?" asked Crabbe.

Lucius glared in the other wizard's direction. He was, apparently, very aware of that fact and did not seem in the least bit pleased to be reminded.

"Draco, she's a pretty little thing too," Crabbe continued. "A bit dotty for my tastes, but a fine looking young witch nonetheless."

Draco's knuckles were turning white where he was gripping his wine glass. Hermione almost wished it would break in his hand if what Crabbe was saying was the truth. She could almost hear his teeth grinding in anger as well. Vince noticed nothing and Rabastan was too amused to care. No one else in the room was laughing.

"It's simply too bad that you're not married, Lucius," Rabastan said with a sneer. "You could adopt your grandchild. There's no telling where it might end up now. At least you don't need to worry about it ending up in the home of a blood traitor or Merlin forbid, a Mudblood."

Rabastan caught Hermione's narrowed eyes and smiled.

"Even if Antonin was finally able to make his bonding with Miss Granger a reality as he so longs for," Rabastan continued ignoring the deathly frightening glower on Antonin's face. "They would never be approved by the Ministry to adopt an Umbridge baby. Even with only one Mudblood the adoption would be denied. That, Lucius, must be at least some comfort."

A wine glass finally was shattered in the drawing room, and to Hermione's great surprise, it was her own bursting into millions of pieces in her hand. She leveled a steely scowl in Rabastan's direction for several moments before dropping her eyes to her bloody appendage. Antonin was already attempting to clean the miniscule shards of glass out of her open wounds. Her anger was strong enough that she still hadn't felt any pain.

"Oh dear!" exclaimed Lucius, rising quickly from his seat with his handkerchief at the ready. "Draco, please take Miss Granger into the kitchen to clean that wound. It looks pretty nasty and I would hate for it to get infected."

Draco immediately rose from his chair to do as his father bid. Hermione tried to follow suit, but Antonin kept her seated on the loveseat next to him. She was not in the mood to deal with Antonin's recent possessiveness. It was, to be perfectly honest, a little hot in the beginning. After several weeks of it she was getting annoyed. She glared into the face of the wizard still grasping her wrist.

"Seriously, Antonin?" she said in a whisper that no one else could hear. The last thing she wanted to do was to shame or embarrass him in front of the others. Nothing good ever happened after she'd inadvertently committed those cardinal sins in the past. "I will just be in the other room. I'm not leaving the manor."

"Please do not fear for Miss Granger, Antonin," Lucius said with a false smile splashed across his handsome features. "She will be perfectly safe with my son. They were old school mates. We have some potions in the kitchen that will take care of her wounds and prevent even a hint of a scar."

Antonin narrowed his eyes in Lucius' direction. It was obvious to Hermione that the two of them had a history that was perhaps better left undiscussed. She really wasn't in the mood to deal with their egos. Pain was beginning to shoot up her hand. Draco had already gently removed her hand from Antonin's grasp to take a closer look at the injury. Reluctantly, Antonin allowed her to rise from the seat. He cast a spell in Hermione's direction without anyone noticing before she could even move a step. The fury in Hermione's eyes when she felt the renewed tugging at her waist would've made any of her past acquaintances squirm in their seats, but Antonin was not moved. He carefully pulled her down to whisper in her ear.

"I've increased the tether," he explained. "But you won't be able to get too far away from me, Hermione. Certainly won't be able to leave the manor and apparate away with Malfoy."

"Goddamn it, Antonin!" she hissed. "I'm not a fucking dog!"

All of the ears in the room had the manners to ignore the fact that she was certainly not responding to Antonin in the same low tone of voice that he initially spoke to her with. Her anger was evident to all assembled. A slight curling of the corner of Rabastan's and Lucius' mouths proved that they were unintentionally providing quality entertainment for the room.

"If you're away from me for too long, it will compel you to return," he continued still in a light whisper. He was not even paying attention to the others in the room.

"Fine."

Draco led her back towards the door that opened into the Entrance Hall. Before they were able to cross the threshold Lucius made Draco promise that before they returned they would head down into the wine cellar for some more bottles. The unexpected company left the drawing room dry. Antonin's exasperated response to his request only served to humor both Lucius and Hermione. At least they seemed to have one thing in common: enjoying making Antonin aggravated.

The younger wizard did not say a single word to Hermione as he walked down a long, dark hallway towards the back of the manor. Hermione wasn't exactly frightened by the prospect of being alone in an empty part of the house with the boy who tried to make her school years miserable, but she certainly was unnerved by him not speaking a single word. When she tried to engage him in conversation, he practically hissed at her to shut up and wait. A few minutes later, the house really was quite large, he pushed open the door to a large, empty kitchen. Hermione loved it immediately. It was the kind of place that she could imagine spending hours in with loved ones seated around the ancient plank table in the middle of the room. Draco held out a chair and as soon as Hermione was seated, he crossed the massive expanse to open a cabinet filled with potions vials.

"Your cuts don't look too deep," Draco said when he sat down in the chair next to hers. "Shouldn't take too long to clean out all of the glass. Looks like Dolohov got most of it out already."

She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze when he brought up the wizard she had been living with for almost two months. He chose to ignore the tension. Silently and deftly, he was able to clean out the dozens of small cuts all over her hand with hardly any additional pain felt on her part. When they were cleaned out with a couple of different potions she was certain she learned how to brew in Professor Snape's class, he ran his wand over the marks to make them disappear completely. Lucius had not been merely boasting when he said that his son could make certain she had no lingering scars.

"Thank you. I appreciate your kindness," she said when he finished.

"Nothing to worry about, Granger. It was my fault that you were placed in that position. Though I'm certain that you've been living under Lestrange's roof for any length of time that that wasn't the first time you had the urge to crush a glass in your hands."

A quiet, unladylike snort escaped from her at the comment. He was certainly not wrong. When his smiling eyes met hers again she felt almost calm. Somehow in the almost two years since they'd really spent any length of time around the other, Draco Malfoy had changed for the better. He used to only make her feel anger and even at times embarrassment and shame with his barbed comments and frequent use of slurs that most others wouldn't dream of using in her hearing. For the first time since she was picked up from the streets of Inverness by Antonin and Albert Runcorn on that freezing January night, she felt like she was in the company of someone that she could completely relax around. Even with her renewed and improved relationship with Antonin following the dismal dinner party she had not felt this at ease.

"Come on, Granger, let's get down to the cellar and back up before Dolohov wets himself."

She laughed again and allowed him to clasp her hand in his. They walked further down the long hallway in silence. Any time she tried to ask a question he would squeeze her hand and ask her to simply 'wait'. It was bloody frustrating. By the time they descended the slick, stone staircase into the massive Malfoy wine cellar, she was ready to steal his wand and curse him for his reluctance to answer her questions.

"All right, Granger," he said, dropping her hand so he could walk over to the wine racks. "Ask your first question. We will not be overheard in here."

"Where is Luna?"

The dimness of the ancient room served to hide his face in shadows, but she could tell he was upset simply by the dropping of his usually proud shoulders. Draco reached up to remove several bottles of wine before answering.

"Luna is currently an inmate of the Umbridge Home for Young Ladies. Are you aware of what that is?"

Hermione gasped at the knowledge even though she was not surprised. Suspecting and knowing were two completely different things.

"Yes."

Draco groaned. He ran his hands through his perfectly coiffed blonde hair in a mannerism that was strikingly similar to Harry.

"I'm not a horrible person, Granger."

"I never said you were," she replied before she stopped herself with what felt like an inappropriate laugh. "Well, I _have_ said you were a horrible person before, but I don't actually believe it any longer. You proved there was a hint of a good person inside of you that night that you refused to identify Harry when Greyback brought us here."

He gave her a slight smile before continuing.

"I never wanted to go, but I didn't have much of a choice," he explained. "That first night, I mean. Several of the other Death Eaters at the castle thought it would be funny to drag me to the Umbridge Home. Seemed to think that I needed to be made a man of, however ridiculous that sounds. The Home hadn't been open for very long. A week, maybe? Two? I knew what happened there or at least I'd heard rumors. I would've done just about anything to get out of going, but they were persistent. Said that the Dark Lord would want me to do my part to ensure that the noble Home was successful."

He scoffed at the thought.

"They lined them all up waiting for us. It was disgusting. I'm not sure how many were there. Fifteen? Twenty? I knew _every_ single one of them, Hermione. These were all girls that I'd grown up with, sat in classes with, bullied in the corridors even. The first witch I ever kissed was standing there in the line just waiting for some disgusting, feral man to drag her off into a private room and rape her."

He moved closer to stand in the light. Hermione could see his cheeks were flushing red with either embarrassment or just the sheer emotion of telling the story he seemed reluctant to tell.

"Bet you didn't know there was a time in my second year that I had a bit of a thing for a Hufflepuff, did you?" he asked, smiling sheepishly at her and winking. She couldn't help but snort once more in laughter. "Best you not tell my father. He would be so embarrassed. Or actually, maybe not. The war has certainly changed his opinions on a lot of other things. I imagine his opinions on Hufflepuffs have changed dramatically in recent weeks."

"I promise."

"Susan Bones and I used to sneak into an unused classroom on the third floor to snog. Three of the best weeks of my life."

Hermione laughed to keep herself from crying. She had no clue. While she and Susan weren't exactly close even after being in the DA together, she certainly had no idea that the quiet, red-haired Hufflepuff used to sneak into abandoned classrooms with the Slytherin prince. No doubt they both kept that secret pretty quiet from members of both of their Houses.

"She was so angry when she saw me. I thought I was going to be sick. She actually spit on me. Yelled at me and called me a disgusting traitor. I couldn't argue with her. Amycus Carrow liked her. Said she had spirit before he dragged her off still screaming at me. If she hadn't been screaming at me from the very first moment, I probably would've picked Susan. I was dying to talk to her, to find out if she was all right. Amycus prevented that.

"Even though I had less than zero desire to be there for a moment longer, the others were adamant that I pick someone. All of the girls were crying. Could you blame them? All of them except for Luna. She just stood there with that wistful expression she's always had. Acted as if she were waiting for a play to begin or if she were enjoying a quiet day at the park. Because she wasn't crying Cadmus Mulciber said he wanted to make her cry. I pushed him out of the way and claimed Luna for myself."

Draco stopped for a moment before continuing. Hermione hardly dared to breathe. She could see his shoulders, much broader than they had been when they were in sixth year, slowly begin to bow with the tension he was feeling telling his horrible story. Hermione closed the distance between them to place a comforting hand on his elbow. He looked up into her eyes to smile a haunted smile, but still thankful for the attempt at solace.

"I used to sneak down into the cellar when Luna was held prisoner here. Father and Mother did what they could to keep Aunt Bella and the others from hurting her whenever possible, but when I was home I took it upon myself to bring their meals downstairs and check on her and Mr. Ollivander. She was incredible. Even in the worst circumstances she would say the most insightful things that made me feel like I was just a person, not a demented follower of an evil overlord. She could stare right through me. I've never, _never_ experienced anything similar to that. After that first night with her…"

He faltered in his story. When he turned his face away from Hermione's to face the darkness, she could see the tears rolling down his cheeks. This was not a Draco Malfoy she had ever seen before.

"Did you fall in love with her?" Hermione asked, certain she already knew the answer.

Draco rotated back around to meet her eyes. The tears were still there, but the smile was remarkable.

"That first night I did. When I realized that it was in my power to keep her protected from anyone else, I claimed her as my 'favorite'. They actually will allow the visitors to claim a girl if they so choose. Guess it keeps the Minister for Magic from being forced to shag the leftovers of the lowliest Death Eater. With my limited influence I've been able to keep her as safe as I possibly can. I can't get her out, but I can make certain that she isn't forced to submit herself to one of those fucking lineups ever again."

Hermione reached over to take his hand in hers once more. She squeezed it once before dropping it again.

"Thank you, Draco. Thank you for doing what you can to protect my friend in what must be the most fucked-up situation imaginable."

"We're getting them all out."

The last sentence was spoken in a whisper as if he were afraid that someone else would overhear. Hermione almost missed the impact of his statement.

"I'm not supposed to tell anyone. Father isn't entirely certain that you haven't been turned by Dolohov, but I know. I can tell. Even if you hadn't teared up the moment I gave you Luna's message upstairs, breaking the bloody glass in your hand certainly gave away your true feelings."

"Who is getting them all out? What do you mean?"

"The Resistance. One of the Weasleys has some grand plan to get into the building and save everyone. It's going to take some time, but we're going to do it. Longbottom promised me that I could take Luna out that night. Hide her somewhere. I'm hopeful that we can get her out before the baby is born. I can't imagine having to give our child away to some disgusting Ministry-approved couple. They're liable to end up stuck with someone horrible."

"You've spoken with Neville?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her heart was beating furiously with every word that came out of his mouth.

"Just a few days ago actually. I've been helping them to get more information about the inside of the Home. When I can, I pass them information about the security, layout, who works there. Whatever I can really. Usually all I can do is pass the information to Father and he gets it to Longbottom or to Shacklebolt."

"Your father is part of the Resistance?!"

She was certain she had heard it all. Even though she knew the end of the war had been harder on the Malfoys than most, she still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that both father and son seemed so entrenched in the rebellious activities plaguing the new regime. It was very much out of character even if Lucius admitted to her in a clandestine murmur over soup that Lord Voldemort blasted his Dark Mark off his arm for his wife's treachery in the final battle. At least his persistent questioning in the corridor about whether or not Antonin was treating her well made sense. No doubt he had orders from Kingsley or someone else she loved to find out as much as he could about her welfare. Knowing that made her feel more than a little guilty that she'd been so rude.

"No one suspects the Malfoys to switch to the other side no matter how often the Dark Lord likes to kick us when we're down," Draco replied, bitterness dripping from every word he spoke.

Hermione felt the tiniest of tugging from the invisible bond around her waist. Obviously Antonin felt she'd been gone for too long. She picked up a few of the bottles Draco removed from the wine rack before turning towards the stairs. If she wasn't back in the drawing room in a few minutes she had no doubt that Antonin would be searching for her. When she silently headed for the stairs, Draco followed.

They reached the entrance hall before the insistent tugging on her waist became uncomfortable. Draco held open the door to the drawing room to allow her to enter just as the intruder alarms started going off indicating that another person had arrived at the gates. Lucius calmly passed by here in the hall to open the front door. An obviously ill at ease Thorfinn Rowle stood at the door. Hermione stopped moving towards the open door to the room where she knew Antonin was impatiently waiting for her return.

"Thorfinn, what an unexpected surprise," Lucius said as he invited the man in.

"I'm sorry for coming by uninvited, Lucius, but when I stopped by the Lestrange Manor to speak with Rabastan his house elf told me that I could find him here. Thought about waiting for his return, but didn't fancy sitting in an empty house."

His blue eyes fell on Hermione at just that very moment. With a smirk that completely changed his countenance, Thorfinn winked at the witch. She rolled her eyes and turned to head into the drawing room. Before she moved a step his massive hand stopped her with a gentle pressure on her forearm.

"Good evening, Princess. What a pleasant surprise."

"Thorfinn." She nodded in his direction and pulled her arm out of his grasp. "I'm not sure 'pleasant' is the word I would use to describe your presence."

"You wound me, Princess," he laughed. He leaned down to place a chaste kiss on her cheeks. His lips lingered next to ear for a few seconds longer to whisper. "When are you going to ditch Antonin and run away with me?"

She snorted at his question before laughing loud enough to actually startle both Lucius and Draco. Thorfinn wasn't offended by her reaction. The same smirk he had on his face when he was teasing her in the library during the dinner party appeared.

"Bring me actual proof that the Crumple Horned Snorkack exists and I will be glad to run away with you," she said, soliciting amused snickers from Draco.

She winked at the younger blonde wizard before turning away from Thorfinn. Rowle was even more amused with her response than he had been with her snort. She placed the bottles of wine down on a side table before resuming her seat next to Antonin.

"What took so long?" he demanded in a quiet hiss.

"Have you ever been down in the cellar? It's bloody massive, Antonin," she replied, choosing to ignore his furious expression. "This house is massive. Took a while."

Hermione turned away from the obviously angry Death Eater. No doubt she would hear more questions about her interlude with Draco before the evening was over. He probably wasn't going to allow her to sleep before he was satisfied that she'd answered all of his questions.

"Can we leave soon?" she asked. "I'm exhausted and Thorfinn just showed up. Not too anxious to spend any amount of time with that man."

Antonin was surprised to hear that his former partner had arrived while she was outside in the Entrance Hall. They both turned their attention towards the door. Lucius graciously led the new arrival into the drawing room. He'd only been inside the room for moments before the greetings were interrupted by the sound of a glass shattering on the hardwood floor. Hermione's head shot up to meet Miss Black's uneasy eyes. Rowle repaired the broken glass with a single incantation with his wand.

"Are you all right, miss?" he asked the unfamiliar witch with what could almost pass as concern.

"I'm fine. Thank you. I apologize. Just slipped right out of my hands. My wrist still isn't very strong."

She couldn't meet Thorfinn's eyes or really anyone else's. Lucius was only steps behind Rowle. He moved closer to help the agitated witch up from her chair.

"Isla darling, I am afraid this evening has been too taxing. You are still recovering," said Lucius as he guided her towards the door to the drawing room. "Perhaps you should go on up to bed. It is growing rather late."

Once Miss Black was safely escorted out of the room by her godfather, Hermione begged Antonin again to leave. Bed sounded like just what she needed as well. He couldn't quite hide the scowl he shot in Draco's direction from her as they bade their goodbyes.

"Please don't force me to ever return to this house," she begged Antonin just as he prepared to apparate them both outside the gates.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

She didn't speak to Antonin the entire walk up the drive at Lestrange Manor. It was as if he were not even there. Antonin tried to ignore the miniscule amount of hurt feelings on his part due to her behavior. Everything between them had been going so well the past several days until he forced her to come with him to the one place she had no desire to ever return simply because Rabastan made him feel obligated to do so. Finding his own home was becoming more and more of an attractive prospect.

The damned dog was anxiously awaiting their return in the front hall. With a loud 'woof' and a frantic wagging tail, Argos was more than just a little excited to witness their return. Antonin wasn't deluded however. He knew the massive mutt only had big, puppy dog eyes for Hermione. When she dropped to her knees to pull the dog into a warm embrace and drop multiple kisses on its smelly furry head, Antonin had to suppress the urge to kick the animal. She'd certainly never greeted _him_ with the same amount of fervor. _Jealous of a damn dog, old man?_ He shook the increasingly depressing thoughts from his overtaxed brain.

Hermione and Argos led the way up the stairs toward their bedroom without a single word. She was obviously upset by their evening away. Part of him hoped she would feel at ease enough to confide in him but the rest was still a bit miffed at her for her behavior in front of Lucius. No doubt the wizard found her rebellious nature positively charming because it made his former cell neighbor miserable. Their time together in Azkaban had certainly been unpleasant and their relationship during the First and Second Wars had been contentious as well. Only a couple of years younger, Lucius always felt the need to lord over the other Death Eaters with his massive Gringotts vault and close proximity to the Dark Lord. Everyone knew, however, that Lucius was only in the position he was in because Abraxas Malfoy was the largest funder of the Dark Lord's campaign. Without his shiny sickles Lucius would've been much further down the food chain. If Antonin could exploit his meteoric fall from grace he would do so with a joy filled heart.

"I'm taking a bath," Hermione announced the moment she pushed open the door to their bedroom. "I want to wash the stench of Malfoy Manor out of my pores."

Antonin could sympathize. Indeed he had much the same plan before retiring to bed. Too bad he knew the witch would be averse to sharing the tub with him. He was certain that would be one hell of a way to end their dismal evening. His thoughts strayed to the night of the dinner party in short order. Remembering the delicious details of how the lavender bubbles slid off of the young woman's naked body made his trousers tight in a manner that was uncomfortable only because he knew the outlet for the pent up desire would be denied if he even worked up the courage to ask. He lowered himself on the sofa in an attempt to bring about different thoughts in his ever-increasingly sexually frustrated brain. Remembering that she was on the other side of the bathroom door soaking in the tub once more did not help matters in the slightest. _Oh well_ , he thought before deciding to take care of the problem in the shower before bed.

She emerged from the bathroom a short time later fully dressed in her favorite purple pajamas. A quiet voice in the back of his mind chastised him yet again for buying the pajamas that covered her completely from neck to ankles. She owned more sleeping attire that provided a better feast for his eyes, but she continued to cover herself in the almost frumpy garments.

"Goodnight, Antonin," she said as she slipped under the covers of their bed.

When he emerged from the bathroom half an hour later feeling clean and a tiny bit more relaxed, he smiled when he saw the young woman had maneuvered herself to the very center of the bed. Their bed was large enough that he would still have plenty of room to be comfortable on his side, but the simple act of her no longer confining herself to the very edge as far away from him as possible was a bit heart-warming. Antonin was careful not to jostle the bed unnecessarily when he climbed in to join her. Sleep overtook him only moments after his head touched his pillow.

The moon was still high in the sky and shining through their bedroom windows when Antonin's eyes popped open. His instincts had served him well in battle. He was able to tell at a moment's notice even while completely asleep when something was wrong. Hermione was sobbing next to him. He closed the small gap between their bodies to pull her frame to his chest. Yet another instinct. Argos caught his eyes moments later. The dog was staring at his human from her side of the bed with an anxious look plastered across his furry face.

Antonin could feel how fast her heart was racing when he settled her against his broad chest. The quiet whimpers and sobs let him know swiftly that Hermione was still very much asleep and in the throes of a particularly disturbing nightmare. Antonin ran his hands up and down her sides softly murmuring comforting and soothing words. He didn't want to jar her awake and run the risk of further traumatizing the girl. If there was anyone that understood the sheer terror and power of nightmares, it was a man who spent fifteen years of his life locked up in Azkaban.

"Shh, _daragaya_ , you're safe with me," he crooned softly into her hair.

Hermione gasped and sat up abruptly in bed. She struggled for a moment to catch her breath as she gradually woke up.

"It's all right, Hermione," he whispered, still rubbing her back. "It was just a nightmare."

Hermione turned to face the man lying next to her with brown eyes filled with tears. Antonin reached a hand up to brush a few off of her cheeks. She rotated completely until she was facing him before throwing both of her thin arms around him to sob unashamedly into his chest. Antonin wasted no time wrapping both of his arms around her to hold her in place. He was going to provide whatever comfort he could to the distraught witch.

"I'm sorry," she whispered several minutes later when her sobbing had subsided to adorable little hiccups.

"Nothing to apologize for, Hermione," he assured her. "We all have nightmares. Unfortunately some of us have them worse than most."

She snuggled in closer to Antonin's chest causing him to take an involuntary sharp intake of air. He settled down after a moment and secured his hold. When she didn't protest his increased pressure on her figure, he placed a soft kiss on the top of her head.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked. "Sometimes it helps."

"I was dreaming about my friend Luna," she answered in a whisper. Her hiccups were almost completely gone.

"Who is she?" Antonin kissed her head again in encouragement.

"She's a very strange girl," Hermione said with a laugh. "But she grows on you after a while. We were in the DA together, the only non-Gryffindor at the Ministry."

Antonin's stomach clenched at her words. He'd been able to go almost three years without having a name to match the face of the pretty blonde Ravenclaw who often haunted his own nightmares. He thought of her beautiful eyes meeting his across the Great Hall while she was being raped by Amycus Carrow. It was a moment that would be seared into his memory until he died. He reflexively tried to pull Hermione closer to his chest as if he could somehow shield her from the same fate as her odd, dreamy expressioned friend.

"I remember her," he said, ignoring the lump forming in his throat. "She was very pretty and I remember being a little disappointed that a member of my own House got herself mixed up with a brash group of Gryffindors."

Hermione quietly snorted into his chest. The tiny sound of mirth helped loosen the clenching in his gut. They both needed the comfort of another human being.

"She's the girl that Draco Malfoy visits at the Umbridge Home. He was dragged there by some of the other Death Eaters against his will, but as soon as he found Luna there, he's been doing everything he can to protect her."

"I'm so sorry, Hermione."

"When Draco greeted me he whispered that Luna 'sends her love' and that they've both been worried about me."

He'd been intensely curious ever since the moment he knew the young Malfoy was whispering into the ear of _his_ witch. It was a bit of a relief to learn the content of his words. Sometimes Antonin had difficulty suppressing the jealousy monster that he knew lived inside of him. Always had, even as a child. He longed for the day, assuming it ever happened, that he felt secure enough with Hermione to no longer worry. Of course considering the type of wizards they were forced to interact with at present, it wouldn't be wise to get too secure and complacent.

"We were talking about Luna the entire time we were away from everyone else," she continued. "Draco is so in love with her that is makes me sad."

"Why, _daragaya?_ Shouldn't knowing that your friend is well-loved make you happy?"

"Under normal circumstances, absolutely. If they'd reconnected at a pub or in Diagon Alley and fell in love, I would be very pleased for both of them. Draco and I didn't get along in school, but if he was smart enough to see what a jewel Luna is, I'd be able to move past our school years to accept him. I honestly never really expected Luna to pick a conventional mate anyway. Draco makes sense in a strange way."

She sighed before continuing her thought.

"But they reconnected in a fucking prison, Antonin. And not just any prison, a prison whose sole purpose is to allow disgusting wizards free range to rape and impregnate as many terrified young women as possible. Yes, Draco has managed to find a way to become her protector so she's not forced to _entertain_ other men, but what kind of future can they really have?"

Antonin's hands ran up and down Hermione's back in an effort to soothe the distraught woman. She seemed to appreciate the gesture and didn't hesitate to allow him to pull her back down on his chest when he lay back on his pillow. Hermione settled her head on his shoulder and slung her arm across his stomach. Antonin couldn't remember the last time he felt so at ease with a witch in his bed. She seemed to _fit_.

"I hate Dolores Umbridge," she announced in a clear tone after a few minutes of silence.

Antonin couldn't blame her for her feelings after all that he'd learned about her history with the woman. Sometimes a deep hatred could even be beneficial to a person. It could help keep them grounded and even give them motivation to keep going when life got rough. He understood, in theory, that love could do much the same with fewer nasty side effects. Simply hadn't experienced it yet in his life.

"She is a disgusting excuse for a human being and I would love to be there for the moment that she finally gets what she deserves."

"I'm certain you aren't the only one," he replied.

"I dreamt that I was stuck in that Hell with Luna. She was being repeatedly attacked and I couldn't do anything to stop them. I was completely helpless. Useless."

Antonin tried to pull her body even closer to his, but there really wasn't any way to do so. As it was, she was already practically lying on top of him. Naturally he didn't mind one bit. His hands never stopped moving up and down her back, across her arms, through her wonderfully wild hair. He could feel her tears dampen his shirt, but he certainly didn't mind. If he had to remain in that bed for the rest of his life comforting Hermione, he would do so gladly.

"I haven't been fair to you, Antonin."

Her words surprised him enough that he stopped the calming caresses on her pajama clad frame to stare. She tilted her head up to meet his eyes. Hers were red rimmed and puffy. How she could manage to look absolutely delectable with tears streaks across her cheeks and the faintest runny nose he'd never understand. He wandlessly conjured her a fresh handkerchief.

"Thanks," she said with a self-deprecating laugh. "I'm sure I look horrendous."

"On the contrary."

He kissed her curls and felt a jolt in his stomach when her cheeks turned red. He wondered if she was feeling at least a fraction of what he was. _Probably not_.

"I mean it, Antonin. I haven't been fair to you. I guess tonight is really the first time that's been made clear to me."

"What do you mean exactly, Hermione?"

"You know how bloody angry I've been with you since I woke up here after Azkaban. I've been a nightmare at times."

"This has not been an easy adjustment for you to make."

"Please stop trying to excuse me, Antonin," she begged with a groan. "Draco explained to me how the Umbridge Home worked when we were down in the cellar."

Antonin tensed just a bit at that revelation. He had been hoping to shield her from the harsh realities of the prison many of her friends were locked up in. She didn't need to be terrified even further especially if there was nothing she could do for them. Hermione began to move her hand across his chest in much the same manner he had been doing to soothe her. With his free hand he took her hand in his. After bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss, he held it close to his chest once more.

"He told me that they line up girls like livestock so their horny, disgusting visitors can pick which one they want to drag off into a private room and rape. He said that he knew _every_ single one of the poor girls and it almost made him throw up."

"Understandable."

"When I think that that could be my reality, I can't breathe for the fear. I know Muggleborns aren't allowed, but Azkaban certainly isn't any better."

He couldn't argue with her about that. Sexual assault in Azkaban was almost unheard of. Inmates were separated from each other by bars at all times except for when they were being processed at the very beginning of their sentences. Dementors had no physical contact with the prisoners and there were very few aurors who worked at the prison. Azkaban had its own special kinds of torture that could turn a man insane, but a sentence at the Umbridge Home condemned the poor witches to repeated and frequent sexual assault. Labelling it disgusting wasn't a strong enough label.

"So I could be stuck in Azkaban or the Umbridge Home or I could be 'under the protection' of another Death Eater like Walden Macnair or Rabastan himself."

She shuddered at the thought of either man having permission and the free license to touch her whenever they wished. Antonin squeezed her tiny hand and she smiled.

"You've never forced yourself on me."

"Nor would I ever, Hermione."

"And I know that, Antonin, and I actually trust you. Considering our history I'd say that was a giant step."

He privately wondered if there would ever be a day when she wouldn't think about how he tried to kill her… twice.

"You frightened me that night in the library. Sometimes it can be all too easy to forget what you are ordered to do when you step outside this room."

"It's a part of who I am, Hermione, but I have promised to keep you protected. I could not bear to imagine you in Azkaban or at the mercy of some of the other Death Eaters."

Antonin placed another soft kiss into her intoxicating lavender scented curls. He could breathe in her scent for the rest of his life. It seemed to only improve with time.

"I think I have a hard time separating Antonin the man from Dolohov the Death Eater," she admitted in a whisper. "Living here and being forced to interact with the others doesn't help. I forget and even take for granted that without you claiming me and offering me your personal protection, I'd be stuck somewhere horrible. I am truly sorry for that, Antonin. I promise to be more grateful in the future."

"You have nothing to apologize for, _daragaya_."

Hermione pushed herself up on her elbows and turned her face back towards Antonin. When their eyes met Hermione leaned up to place the gentlest of kisses on Antonin's mouth. The sensation only lasted a few moments before she removed her lips from his.

"Thank you for keeping me safe, Antonin."

She lay back down with her back facing the wizard. Without asking for permission (as if Antonin would deny her) she leaned her small back into his much larger chest. He enveloped his strong arms around her and for only the second time in two months of sharing a bed, they both fell asleep in each other's arms.

Antonin woke several hours later when he took a deep breath and almost choked on Hermione's hair. He'd forgotten how close she was lying next to him. Both of his arms were still wrapped around her quietly snoring frame. He laughed to himself before kissing the woman on the top of her head. Even snoring she was adorable and desirable. At his last thought he scooted his hips back a few inches. No reason to scare the poor witch when she woke up. She made him feel young again and unfortunately, awkward morning erections were apparently part of the experience.

"G'morning," she mumbled when he started shifting around on the bed.

"Good morning, _daragaya_ ," he replied placing another kiss in her marvelous curls. "How did you sleep?"

"Much better the second time."

She attempted to snuggle backwards closer to Antonin. When her perfect, round bum brushed against his groin, Antonin accidentally released a quiet groan at the sensation. Hermione did not know the power she possessed without even trying.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, her cheeks flushed.

 _Or maybe she does know the power_ , he thought.

"Once again, Hermione, you have nothing to apologize for," he whispered in her ear. His voice was still a bit rough with sleep and it sounded a bit more husky than he really intended. He hoped she wasn't afraid he was going to attempt to seduce her. _But if she's interested…_

"I'm starving," she announced quickly rolling out of their large, rumpled bed. "I'm going to get dressed and head down to breakfast."

She couldn't meet his eyes when she crossed the room to their closet. Antonin smiled to himself. She really was too adorable when she was uncomfortable. He waited for her to finish dressing and disappear into the bathroom before extricating himself from the sheets. Even though it was almost April the room was quite chilly in the morning. He entered the closet to dress, forcing his mind to dwell on other thoughts than how perfect his witch felt in his arms pressed against the length of his body.

When he emerged fully dressed and a great deal calmer, Hermione was actually lying on the rug next to Argos rubbing his well-fed belly. Antonin rolled his eyes at the dog's happy and content expression. Argos was greatly enjoying the ministrations and yet again, Antonin felt a stab of jealousy towards the dog. Of course he couldn't deny that if he were the one lying on the rug next to her with his paws in the air as she rubbed _his_ belly, he'd have a similar expression on his own face. He shook his head and sincerely hoped a day would come when the dog would be jealous of _him_ instead of the other way around.

"Come on, Argos," she said as she pushed herself off of the floor. "I bet Rosie has something delicious waiting for you for breakfast."

Hermione smiled at Antonin when he met them both at the door. Argos was anxious for them to open up. That dog never missed a meal as his oversized belly could attest to. The moment Antonin pulled the door open just an inch or two, Argos was trying to shove his oversized head through the crack. Antonin had to resist the urge to kick the dog when he heard Hermione's musical laughter behind him. Immediately he felt a tiny bit guilty.

They walked down to breakfast together in silence. Neither of them really had anything important to say. Antonin had always been able to appreciate a comfortable silence. Being around people like Rabastan who felt that a silence must constantly be filled with inane chatter could really get on his nerves. He was glad to learn that even though Hermione had a small babbling problem when she was nervous, she too could appreciate and enjoy time spent without speaking.

Argos sped off towards the kitchen when they arrived at the less formal family dining room. Antonin opened the door for Hermione and led her in with a gentle hand on the small of her back. It was always encouraging when she allowed the small touches without flinching or asking that he stop. They were making very slow progress, but he was determined to be encouraged instead of frustrated.

"Good morning, Antonin," greeted Thorfinn Rowle when they entered the room completely. "Good morning, Princess."

Antonin wasn't aware that Rowle had spent the night at the manor. No doubt Rabastan needed assistance home from Lucius' and he rewarded Thorfinn with enough alcohol that he was forced to remain. After a quick survey of the rest of the room, he was glad to see that Vince wasn't there. He could only handle a minute amount of time in that daft wizard's presence before he desired nothing more than to hex his mouth shut.

"Ahh, there they are," Rabastan said with a wink in his direction. "Thorfinn and I were just wondering if we would be seeing the two of you for breakfast."

Thorfinn's eyes raked over Hermione's frame for far longer than Antonin appreciated.

"Have a bit of a lie in, Princess?" he asked with a grin that needed no interpretation. "Late night?"

Hermione settled herself down in her usual seat exactly across the table from the burly blonde.

"Very," she replied, a great deal of emphasis placed on the single word. "We were both positively _exhausted_."

Antonin didn't even try to hide the proud smirk that appeared on his face at her words. Both men seated at the table guffawed at her response. Hermione actually gave him a private wink when he settled down in the open seat next to hers. She reached under the table to grasp his hand for a blissful, fleeting moment.

"I don't know about you, _daragaya_ , but I am _famished_ this morning," Antonin announced as he began to pile eggs on his plate.

"Oddly enough, Antonin, I'm _starving_ as well," she answered. "These scones smell heavenly. Rabastan, please give my compliments to your house elves."

Thorfinn released a loud belly laugh at her comment. Rabastan simply rolled his eyes. He was already used to her strange views on the treatment and protection of house elves. No need to spend yet another meal in attempting to educate the naïve girl on his servants' true worth and status. It was obvious to every wizard seated at the table that there was no changing Hermione's strange little mind when it came to the elves that attended their every need or whim.

"Antonin, I was under the impression that you and Hermione missed out on having an enjoyable evening by leaving Lucius' manor early," said Rabastan. "Obviously Thorfinn and I were mistaken."

Antonin started to say something in response, but he was cut off by Hermione's quick wit.

"I apologize that Antonin and I left early last night, gentlemen. We just couldn't bear to spend another minute stuck at Lucius' home when our empty bed was waiting for us here. I'm sure you both can understand."

Thorfinn was back to staring at Hermione with an obnoxious smirk across his countenance. Antonin didn't like having the younger wizard around his witch one bit. He would never be able to forget the sheer fury and hatred he had for the woman following the evening they were both forced to endure under the pain of the Cruciatus Curse cast by Draco Malfoy. Rowle had been angry enough that he was certain the man would seek out the woman to strangle her or worse. He hated that the words of Alecto Carrow kept running through his mind whenever he found the two of them in the same room together. Hermione certainly wasn't interested in the wizard. She'd made that perfectly clear on multiple occasions. Thorfinn on the other hand, could be read like an open book. Antonin knew his desires and knew that he would act on them if given half an opportunity.

"I would like to say that you both missed an exciting evening once you left the manor, but I'm afraid that would make me a liar," Rabastan said, obviously making an attempt to ignore the implications behind Hermione's response.

"Rabastan was inconsolable once Lucius' goddaughter went to bed," explained Thorfinn.

"I wouldn't say I was 'inconsolable', merely disappointed. I was hoping to make a better acquaintance of her last night."

"You bullied Lucius into bringing her to your party in May," added Thorfinn. "That's something at least. You can get to know her better there."

"Perhaps."

Despite his assurance that he wasn't inconsolable, Rabastan was in a strange mood that morning. Antonin knew that the wizard had been led around by his trousers since they escaped from Azkaban the first time. Lestrange had over a decade to make up for in lost intimacy. He was not used to women not falling at his feet once they were introduced to him. Antonin couldn't help but laugh to himself at his friend's predicament. If Lucius was half as intelligent as Antonin knew he was, he would be spending every waking moment in his goddaughter's presence warning her to stay away from the Lestrange heir. He was a dangerous man especially when it came to young witch's affections.

"Personally, I thought she was a bit strange," Thorfinn announced after a few moments of uncomfortable stillness.

"I don't know about that, Thorfinn. She just seemed shy," added Hermione. "I couldn't blame her for being so uncomfortable last night. We all just invited ourselves over with no warning. Miss Black doesn't seem like the kind of person who enjoys a great deal of attention."

"She was pretty, sure, but I don't know. Guess I like my witches with just a little bit more fire in them."

The wink that Thorfinn shot across the table at Hermione incensed Antonin. He was half-tempted to leap across the table and end the young wizard's life with his bare hands. A reassuring hand placed delicately on his thigh stopped him for a moment. He covered Hermione's hand with his and chose to ignore the obviously unwelcome attentions sent in Hermione's direction.

"She was certainly shy," agreed Rabastan, oblivious to the tension that reigned on the other side of the table. "Nothing at all like her mother."

"Of course she's not like her mother. Otherwise she would've had her robes up around her ears about ten seconds after she met you, Rabastan," added Antonin to the general amusement of his other diners.

"How droll you are this morning, Antonin. I think I rather like you in such good spirits," Rabastan replied. "Do I have our dear Hermione to thank for this upswing in your mood?"

"Naturally," Hermione answered. "Who else did you think it was?"

She slightly increased the pressure of her tiny hand on his thigh. Antonin couldn't keep the satisfied smirk off of his lips. _If this is how it feels when we're only_ implying _our relationship is physical, how much better will it be when we actually are physical_? He wasn't sure the answer to his question, but he knew he couldn't wait to find out.

"Miss Black must take after her father in personality," Rabastan continued. "Arcturus Black was one of the most boring wizards I've ever had the misfortune to know. It's a shame really. To look just like her mother and be just like her father."

Privately Antonin thought there were worst people to be like than Arcturus Black. The poor girl could've ended up a daft slag like her mother. That would be the real tragedy. At least in the short period of time he spent with Miss Black while he was waiting on Hermione to return from the wine cellar with little Malfoy, he found her sweet and perhaps, a little naïve. She wouldn't remain either for very long if forced to interact with the people seated around the table he was seated at. He thought Lucius bringing her to Rabastan's Merlin-forsaken party would be comparable to throwing a weak kitten into a hungry lions' den. She would either learn to use her claws or get eaten up fairly early.

"I am not deterred, gentlemen," Rabastan announced. "I will continue to visit the young Miss Black even if I am forced to endure Lucius' company to do so. Are you free this evening, Thorfinn?"

"As far as I know," the wizard replied.

"Excellent. We will drink more of Lucius' wine and make a better acquaintance of Miss Black. Antonin, you are welcome to join us as well."

"No, thank you, Rabastan. I've had about as much of Lucius as I can stand at present."

"Your loss, I suppose. Now, Thorfinn, you are only allowed to come with me if you understand that any affection that Miss Black chooses to bestow will be on me, not you."

Thorfinn chuckled.

"Not to worry, Rabastan," he continued to laugh. "Like I said earlier, I prefer my women to have a little more fire in them than that girl. She is all yours. Not interested in the slightest."

"I'm sure she will be thankful to hear that bit of news," Hermione responded.

"Very cheeky, Princess."

Hermione finished picking at her breakfast a few minutes later. She placed her napkin on the table next to her plate and stood from the table. All three men rose from their seats at the same moment.

"Please, sit back down," she said. She turned to address Antonin directly. "I'm going to go to the library."

"Always in the library. Why am I not surprised?" queried Thorfinn with a grin.

"Shut up, Thorfinn."

Hermione leaned down to place a light kiss on Antonin's cheek. He was not expecting the display of affection and almost leapt out of his seat at the contact. Thankfully neither of the other wizards witnessed how uncomfortable he was for a brief moment. Obviously she was enjoying making the other two wizards believe there was something more between the two of them. She rubbed his shoulders lightly with a single hand as she walked towards the door.

"Hey, Princess."

She stopped in the doorway to turn back around to face the blonde wizard.

"You might want to think about running a brush through that mane of yours," Thorfinn continued. "You've got that 'all shagged out' look going for you this morning."

"Thanks for the advice, Thorfinn, but I rather like the way my hair looks."

Hermione left the room while all three men laughed at her response.

"You know, Antonin, I was a bit afraid last night when you two left early that you both were coming home in poor spirits," said Rabastan when the laughter died down. "She can be a very difficult woman to keep happy. Even I know that and I've just been somewhat on the outside of your budding relationship."

"Do you have a point, Rabastan?"

"There have been several of us who have been whispering that maybe your _relationship_ with Hermione wasn't all that you had been claiming it was."

"I don't see how this is any of your business."

"All I'm saying, Antonin, is that I am pleased to find out that we were all wrong."

Antonin no longer had any desire to sit in the same room with his host. He knew there were rumors that his act of requesting Hermione as his 'war prize' was a decision that left many questioning his true motives. He'd even been aware of the fact that there were plenty out there who would gladly take up the arduous task of keeping the witch 'protected' if he were somehow put out of commission. Thorfinn had been staring at his witch all through breakfast. Antonin could only imagine the thoughts that were coursing through that behemoth's limited-capacity brain. It was enough to make him want to curse him out of existence.

"If you will both excuse me," Antonin said as he rose from his chair. "I believe I will go find Hermione."

"Round two?" Thorfinn asked with a raised eyebrow.

Antonin chose to ignore the question as he swept out of the breakfast room. His desire to move out of the Lestrange Manor was growing stronger as each day passed. He was growing restless moving through the ornate hallways that didn't belong to him. Perhaps it was time to put his plan to buy his own home into action. No doubt Hermione would be pleased to no longer be forced to live with Rabastan.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Antonin asked as he stood in the doorway of the library.

Hermione looked up from the large volume she was perusing with a bright smile. She gently pushed Argos off of the sofa next to her and patted the seat. Antonin crossed the expanse of the library in just a few short strides. When he sat down she closed the book.

"Did I miss anything?" she asked with the hint of a grin.

"Not at all." He groaned. "The usual."

"Rabastan can be exhausting, can't he?"

Antonin chuckled quietly. She was not wrong.

"I've been thinking about buying my own house," he announced.

Hermione's head rotated quickly in his direction. She seemed interested and excited by the prospect.

"Please do!" she begged. "I cannot _stand_ it here."

He reached across the few inches between them to clasp her hand in his. She didn't flinch or move her hand away. When neither said anything for several moments, Hermione scooted closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. Her affectionate act surprised him once again that morning. Obviously she had not been lying when she said in the early hours of the morning that she was going to start trying to be more grateful for the risks he was taking in protecting her from harm. He kissed the top of her head.

"Do you feel unsafe here, _daragaya_?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes I'm afraid to be here without you. Rabastan is always popping up in random places when I'm moving around the manor."

"Has he ever tried to touch you?" He could feel his blood pressure begin to rise.

"No, nothing like that. Just sometimes it feels like he's following me around. It's unnerving."

Before he could continue the conversation he felt the burning in his left forearm that indicated his master would like his presence. Antonin rose from the sofa carefully so as not to jar the woman too much.

"Are you being summoned?" she asked,

"Yes, I'm afraid I am. I will be back later."

He travelled across the room to the door. When his hand touched the doorknob, he heard her voice behind him.

"Please be careful, Antonin."

For the next few weeks they created a routine. Usually they woke up each morning in the center of the bed and then headed down to breakfast with Rabastan. Sometimes Thorfinn would be there. Other times there would be another Death Eater or two. If he wasn't summoned that day, Antonin would spend most of the day with Hermione sitting in the library. It was amazing how comforting he found sitting on the same sofa next to a woman reading in silence for hours. While they had not progressed further in the physical aspect of their relationship, Antonin continued to hold out hope. She hadn't yet retreated to the edge of their bed. He would consider that progress.

It was about three in the morning when his almost-nightly summons was completed one night in the middle of April. After heading straight to their bedroom to take a long, hot shower before bed, he was surprised to find that the bedroom was empty. Antonin laughed to himself. She'd fallen asleep in the library more often than not in recent days. He took a short shower instead of the long one he desired and headed downstairs.

Argos greeted him at the door. Begrudgingly, Antonin leaned down to scratch the mutt behind his ears. He was starting to grow on him just a little bit. Not that he would ever admit that to Hermione. She might be able to persuade him in letting the animal in their bed if he wasn't careful.

Hermione was asleep on the sofa. He kneeled down on the floor next to her and used his hand to gently push her curls off of her face. She began to stir at his touch. When she opened up her sleepy eyes she actually smiled at him.

"Why aren't you in bed, Hermione?" he asked in a low tone. "It's very late."

"I fell asleep waiting up for you," she admitted.

"You shouldn't do that, _daragaya_. This couch is awful. Our bed is much more comfortable. I could've been out all night."

"It doesn't matter. I wouldn't have been able to sleep upstairs alone."

He ran his hands through her curls once more, loving the feel of the unruly hair between his fingers. The wilder her hair looked, the more he loved it.

"Why not?" he asked.

"I'm afraid I've grown accustomed to you being in the bed with me."

Hermione laid her hand over his still running through her curls. She shyly smiled at him before she leaned up to cover his soft lips with hers.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Hermione wasn't sure what prompted her to kiss Antonin in the library when she woke up. It was simply an instinct, a desire kept somewhere just below the surface. For weeks since she had her nightmare and woke up in the safety of his muscular arms, she'd been looking at her captor in a much different light. The resentment she had been carrying around with her since she woke up in his bed instead of her cell in Azkaban had all but disappeared. She couldn't be certain when she stopped being so angry.

Coming to the stark realization that of all possible outcomes available after the victory of Lord Voldemort, living under Antonin's protection was by far one of the better ones had come a long way in dissipating her anger and frustration towards the man. In the early days of her captivity she couldn't bear to be in the same room as Antonin. The obnoxiously quiet manner in which he breathed while sleeping made her irrationally incensed. (Considering she spent the better part of a year sharing a tent with Ron who snored louder than most bears, she never really could justify to herself why Antonin infuriated her in his sleep.) She couldn't stand how his dark brown eyes always seemed to seek her out. He could stare at her for an entire meal without feeling the urge to utter a single syllable. It was unnerving and caused Hermione to feel from the dinner table early more than once.

 _"I'm afraid I've grown accustomed to you being in the bed with me."_

Even as her lips descended on Antonin's seemingly of their own volition, Hermione couldn't understand what made her say such a phrase. What good could possibly come out of Antonin Dolohov knowing that she had grown needy to the point of physically being unable to fall asleep without his chest pressed against her back?

Maybe the incredible way his soft lips caressed hers was the good that came out of her confession. They'd kissed a few times before, but nothing like that moment. Yes, in hindsight, Antonin pushing her up against the bookshelves upstairs had been one of the hottest single moments of her life. This was different. This was tender and sweet and just a tiny bit intoxicating. Antonin was the first to break contact. He pulled his lips from hers, took her hands in both of his and carefully helped her up from the sofa.

"It's very late," he said once more. "We should go upstairs."

All of the brashness that allowed Hermione to make the first move on the formidable Death Eater before her began to drain out of her completely. In mere moments she felt as awkward and shy as a third year Hufflepuff asking a girl out to their first Hogsmeade weekend. Where was all of her Gryffindor courage? She allowed Antonin to take her by the hand and lead her out of the library.

The long walk to their bedroom gave her plenty of time to think and ultimately freak out about what was going to happen next. Was Antonin expecting more to happen once they were safely inside their room? When she looked up at him for some sense of what he was thinking, she was rewarded with one of his warm smiles that always turned her stomach inside out. There were dark circles under his eyes and several times he had to cover his mouth to yawn, but Hermione knew that the need for sleep could easily be pushed aside if the option for sex presented itself. Hell, she and Ron once ignored an actual battle raging above their heads for a few blissful, all-too-short minutes of intimate connection.

By the time they reached their bedroom door, Hermione had worked herself up internally to a frenzy. While the prospect of moving forward with whatever unnatural relationship she had with Antonin was an exciting prospect, she wasn't sure if she was entirely ready. _What possessed me to kiss him like that?_ She was certain that Antonin was about to throw her down on top of their bed, rip all of her clothes off and proceed to thoroughly and completely ravish her. While she had to admit that she'd fantasized about that scenario more often than she was actually comfortable admitting, now that the moment was upon her she felt like a blushing, terrified virgin again. She hadn't been one of those for years. Everyone always assumed they knew what the goody-good, know-it-all swot was up to, but they had no idea. Hermione was the first of her trio of friends to be intimate with the opposite sex whether Harry or Ron was aware of it or not. There was a reason fourth year was one of her more memorable years…

Hermione shook all thoughts of stolen moments with a gorgeous International Quidditch Star out of her head. Antonin pushed open the door to their room and pulled her inside behind him. He didn't immediately maul her as Hermione half-expected him to. He simply crossed the room towards the large, empty bed that suddenly seemed to dominate the entire space. Had their bed always been that large? Hermione had trouble looking anywhere in the room without that piece of furniture invading her line of sight. When Antonin settled down beneath the covers she all but ran into the closet to hide. Quiet, amused chuckles followed her every step.

Rosie had taken her comfortable purple pajamas that morning to wash. In their place the bossy elf laid out a pair of black silk pajamas that Hermione didn't want to even imagine the cost. Reluctantly, she pulled the decadently luxurious crop pants and short sleeve buttoned shirt on. They really did feel marvelous against her skin, but in that moment she longed for her comfy, dowdy garments.

After taking multiple deep breaths to calm her nerves, she stepped out of the closet. Antonin's eyes were still open and following her progress across the room.

"Are you coming to bed?" he asked with a grin on his stubbled face. She'd been very slowly making her way towards her side of the bed. Obviously she amused the wizard.

"In a minute," she promised. "Just have to brush my teeth."

A minute turned into almost ten once she entered her sanctuary of the bathroom. She didn't simply brush her teeth, but flossed, gargled with mouthwash, washed her face, applied moisturizer, brushed her hair, examined her pores thoroughly, applied lotion to her hands and arms and several other nighttime bathroom rituals that really were unnecessary. When she finally could think of no other reason to linger a moment longer in her refuge, she switched the light off and crossed to the bed.

Antonin was completely asleep. She released a deep exhale of relief. Of course, she knew that if she wasn't ready he wasn't going to force himself upon her. He'd already made that promise more than once. It simply was easier if he was unconscious. Hermione worried that she led him on downstairs when she kissed him so brazenly. His quiet, even breathing proved that it didn't matter now. Sleep won out in the end.

Hermione carefully slipped beneath the bedcovers. She didn't want to run the risk of jostling him awake. Antonin always seemed so peaceful when deep asleep. When she was settled for a few moments, Antonin reached across the bed to pull her into a familiar warm embrace. He didn't seem to desire anything more than to simply hold her against him as he'd done every night for weeks. His breathing slowed once more and Hermione fell asleep with him soon after.

* * *

Hermione woke the next morning to the sun shining into her eyes. As the days had begun to grow longer, she'd been meaning to ask the house elves to increase the coverings on the windows directly above their bed. Too many lie ins had been rudely interrupted with streams of bright morning sun attempting to blind them. She quietly groaned and threw the covers over her head. A soft chuckle from the bathroom doorway caught her attention.

"Not ready to face the day yet?"

She peeked out from underneath the covers. Antonin stood just outside of the bathroom with his toothbrush in hand and a smile on his face. She groaned again before retreating back underneath the covers. The only sounds that penetrated the bedcoverings were a few quiet whispers that Hermione couldn't quite make out. Before she had the chance to poke her head back out and ask Antonin what he was saying, one hundred and seventy five pounds of enthusiasm and hair bounced onto the bed. With laughter and encouragement from Antonin, Argos poked his large nose under the covers in an attempt to rout her out of the security of their bed.

"Go away, Argos!" she shouted without any heat. The dog continued to nuzzle her neck with his wet nose. "Stop it, Argos! Antonin, get him off of me!"

Antonin's warm, booming laugh echoed throughout the room. Argos continued to sniff and nuzzle her until she threw the covers off. The dog seemed surprised by her sudden movement. He leapt off of the bed when she got up. Antonin was still laughing at how annoyed she was when she pushed past him into the bathroom. A few minutes later after she unenthusiastically prepared herself for the rest of the day, she pushed open the door to see a sight she wasn't expecting.

Argos was lying on his back with all four paws in the air. His tongue was hanging out the side of his mouth and he was enthusiastically accepting scratches from Antonin. It was the first time that Hermione had really seen the wizard interact with _her_ dog in a positive, friendly manner. Antonin was crouched down talking to the contented Saint Bernard in a mixture of English and Russian that she couldn't completely understand.

"And here I was thinking that you _hated_ poor Argos," she said, walking past them to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I don't hate dogs, _daragaya._ I've always loved dogs," he replied. " _This_ dog, however, has taken some time for me to warm up to. Not sure what it is about him, but I get the feeling he doesn't like me much."

She stared at the dog that was almost completely asleep after the relaxing scratches on his belly. Nothing about the animal appeared to hate the wizard giving him attention. When Antonin stopped scratching for just a moment, Argos opened his eyes to 'woof' at him. Antonin rolled his eyes and Hermione laughed at the spectacle. The wizard rose from his crouched position on the floor much to Argos' dismay to disappear back into the bathroom.

Despite the fact that she'd already gotten out of bed and brushed her teeth in preparation for the day, Hermione wasn't ready to leave the comfort of the bed just yet. Ignoring Argos' sad, pleading puppy dog eyes begging for continued attention she scooted back up to the top of the bed to lay her head back on her pillow. She stole one of Antonin's pillows to cover her face. The room was still entirely too bright. She didn't have a pressing time table to meet that day. All she had to look forward to was another breakfast downstairs with Rabastan in which Thorfinn or Vince or any other of his frequent house guests might be present. Her energy suddenly lagged.

She was almost asleep again when she felt the pressure of another body on the mattress just behind her. Antonin carefully removed the pillow from her face despite her vociferous protestations. He snuggled in behind her as he did most nights to press the length of his body up against hers and to wrap his arms around her. They lay like that in silence for several minutes. It was comforting and relaxing to simply lie there in his embrace. It was certainly a sensation that Hermione had wasted no time in getting completely comfortable and familiar with.

Antonin's hand reached up to gently move her wild curls away from the base of her neck. It took her a couple of moments to register that the delicious sensations she was suddenly feeling were due to his lips kissing up and down the length of the left side of her neck. His tongue darted out to lightly lick the skin his lips were pressed to before moving on to the next spot. A slow fire began to burn itself in the pit of her stomach. How the simple press of his lips against her neck could cause the pleasant churning in her gut to gradually increase was beyond Hermione. This was obviously a man who had experience in stirring a witch up.

A quiet moan inadvertently slipped out of Hermione's mouth much to her dismay and initial embarrassment. She could feel Antonin's soft, full lips smile against her skin. The sound only spurred him on further. His lips continued to move up and down her neck and then across the small part of exposed collarbone. A few times his teeth lightly nipped at her flesh in a manner that made even more accidental moans escape from the witch's mouth much to her wizard's delight.

Antonin deftly maneuvered Hermione to lie on her back. She hardly had a moment to be surprised by the swiftness of the motion before he covered her lips with his. Her earlier fears from the night before were temporarily forgotten. His full lips tenderly caressed her lips. He playfully bit down on her bottom lip eliciting a surprised gasp that left her mouth open a fraction. The accomplished man needed no further encouragement on her part to begin the full exploration of her mouth with his tongue. Hermione was certainly not in a position to complain. He discovered her mouth in a languid manner leaving it clear that he was in no hurry to complete the task at hand. As far as he was concerned, they had all of the time in the world.

His hands did not remain unoccupied for very long in this new position. Starting with both of his large hands at Hermione's waist, he gradually traced the outline of her curves. The silk in her pajamas made his investigation much easier than the purple flannel she'd been covering herself in for weeks. When his hands slid up over her breasts, both of his thumbs caught her stiffened nipples. Both parties groaned at the sense. Antonin's mouth began a slow, unhurried path back down her neck to her collarbone. From the position they were in, both could feel the other's heart beat rapidly inside their chests.

Antonin covered her mouth with his once more as his hands moved to the tiny buttons on the front of her pajama top. Despite being exceptionally nervous about what was about to happen, Hermione did not hesitate to allow his fingers to deftly unbutton each button. After the first couple were undone, he moved his mouth to her exposed sternum to kiss each individual inch of skin bared as each remaining button was unfastened. She couldn't stop the random shivers throughout her body at his welcome ministrations. When the last button was unbuttoned and her belly button thoroughly kissed, Antonin kissed back up the line of her chest straight to her mouth. Their tongues met once more in a much more frenzied duel for dominance as his hands moved up her abdomen, pushing the silk fabric away as they went. Each hand was perfectly filled with a lusciously round breast. He gently squeezed each one, appreciating all of the weight she'd put back on since moving into the manor. Hermione gasped into his mouth. He couldn't help but smile against her lips.

"You are so soft, _daragaya_ ," he whispered into her ear. "You feel amazing."

He leaned up on his elbows just a bit to stare down at her now exposed flesh. Hermione couldn't help but feel a little shy at the feeling of lying almost completely bare before him for the first time. Yes, he'd seen her naked while she was ill and then again that horrible night she drank too much at Rabastan's dinner party. This was a different situation, however. As his dark brown eyes raked over her fair flesh, she could see his pupils dilate and the brown almost completely disappear from his eyes.

"You are so beautiful, Hermione," he crooned, kissing her once more.

She could almost feel her scars sticking out in the morning air. Immediately she wanted to cover herself back up. When her hands reached for the halves of the silk top, Antonin stopped her from buttoning the shirt.

"What's wrong, _daragaya_?"

"I don't want you to see my scars," she admitted, tears leaking out the sides of her eyes.

Antonin wiped away the blasted tears with a single finger. He kissed her forehead before taking both of her hands in his. Her hands were carefully rearranged to lie on either side of her body on the bed. Tenderly he pushed the fabric back off of her chest to bare her scars again. There were several small scars that she'd gotten throughout her life. Those weren't really the ones that bothered her. He'd already seen the disgusting scar on the inside of her arm that Bellatrix left as a permanent reminder of her devalued blood status. Many times he'd pressed a gentle kiss to the hateful word carved into her flesh. She was mostly upset by the large scar that crossed most of the front of her body. The scar she received in the Department of Mysteries from the very same man practically lying on top of her body in the same bed.

"Your scars only prove what a brave and strong woman you are, Hermione."

His fingers lightly traced the scar that ran from her left shoulder, across the top of her left breast, between her breasts, across the middle of her stomach and then ended just above her right hipbone. The sensation caused her to shiver from an unknown emotion. She wasn't sure if she felt turned on by the attention to the marring of her flesh or if it disgusted her. Antonin sighed when his fingers brushed against her right hip.

"I did this."

She didn't trust her voice to speak at that moment. Her throat was too choked up with unexplained emotion. She simply nodded her head and felt the renewed tears roll down her cheeks. Antonin lowered his head to the top of her scar, the blemish that he was responsible for so many years earlier. It was an ever-present reminder of the moment he almost succeeded in murdering the woman he was worshipping. He ran his lips down the length of the scar, not daring to stop until he could place the lightest of kisses on her hipbone. Hermione couldn't bear to be touched for another moment when he reached the end. She used all of her strength to push the much larger and much stronger man away from her. With quiet sobs, she ran to the bathroom, buttoning up her top as she went.

"Hermione, wait."

She slammed the door shut, vaguely noticing the protective stance Argos took in the doorway. There was no way to lock the door, but she knew a lock wouldn't keep Antonin out if he was determined. As she slid down the side of the bathtub to rest on the floor, she could hear warning growls on the other side of the door. Her heart swelled with gratitude for the Saint Bernard.

"Argos, go away!" Antonin ordered. Based on the continued volume of the growls, the dog refused to move an inch. "Hermione, please let me in."

"Please go away, Antonin," she begged between sniffs.

She couldn't bear to face the wizard just then. Too many emotions were swirling around in her at that moment. It had been so easy to forget their past in those wonderful moments in bed. For all too brief a time, they were just simply a man and a woman giving in to their basest and most erotic desires. He was simply Antonin. Not Dolohov the bastard Death Eater who slashed her sixteen year old self with a deadly curse in the bowels of the Ministry. Not Dolohov who with Rowle tried to kill her again in London in a tacky café. It had been too easy to focus solely on the face behind the mask he wore. Once he reminded her that being a Death Eater was a part of who he was. It was too easy to forget that at times.

A deep, warning growl and a loud bark just outside the bathroom door made Hermione jump. She heard Antonin yell, a sharp crack from a wand and then Argos noisily whimper. The door opened moments later.

"What did you do to him?" she demanded when Argos came running in to see his mistress with his fluffy tail between his legs. He pushed his massive body against hers for comfort.

"It was just a mild stinging hex," Antonin replied.

"Don't ever hex my dog again!"

Hermione ran her hands over the soft fur of the distraught pooch. Argos seemed to be more upset by the hex than actually harmed by it, but she refused to excuse the action. All he was doing was protecting her from the wizard who had obviously upset his human. Hermione ran her hands up and down the fuzzy front legs of the dog, careful not to pay too much attention to the darkened fur on Argos' left front leg. He never liked it when she rubbed his left leg too often. Part of her wondered if he wasn't slightly arthritic in that limb. Maybe he'd injured it in the past and the wound hadn't healed correctly.

"I'm sorry," he said, dropping his eyes to the floor. It was obvious that offering up any form of apology was not an easy task for the Death Eater. "I wasn't trying to harm him. I just wanted him out of the way."

"He was just protecting me."

Antonin pushed his wand hand in front of her face. The outline of a large mouth was clear on his wrist. While the wound wasn't bleeding, she could tell that it would bruise just under the surface of the skin.

"He attacked first."

Hermione buried her head in Argos' neck and continued her petting of the massive animal. Argos narrowed his eyes in Antonin's direction, obviously still wary of the wizard. After a minute or so Antonin was surprised to hear the sobs from the young witch had turned into laughter at some point. Torn between being amused by her adorable snickers and being offended by the injury that _her_ dog inflicted on his person _first_ , Antonin wasn't sure how to proceed.

"Good puppy, Argos," she whispered into his fur loud enough for all parties present to hear. Argos stood taller, proud of the praise. She turned her face towards Antonin with all mirth gone and hard steel plastered across her features. "You should go to St. Mungo's and have that looked at. It's possible they might have to amputate. Can you wield a wand with your other hand?"

It took him a few seconds longer than he was comfortable admitting to realize she was teasing him. Antonin shook his head before letting out a sharp laugh. Hermione laughed once more at his expression. A tiny bit annoyed at the witch, he slid down the edge of the tub to sit next to her on the floor. With his uninjured hand, he pushed the unruly curls from her face before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I don't understand everything that just happened, but I know I upset you. It was not my intention."

"Thank you, Antonin. I was just feeling sensitive about my scar."

"I understand. This is not a _normal_ situation for either of us."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, neither knowing exactly what to say to the other. Hermione was the one who finally broke the stillness.

"I'm sorry too, Antonin. I'm sure this hasn't been easy on you either."

She quickly rose from the floor to disappear inside their large closet. It was past time that she got completely ready to face the day.

* * *

Two days later Antonin gently shook Hermione awake a little before eight. They had been cordial with each other and had been able to easily slip back into their usual positions in the bed each night, but neither had made an effort to kiss the other since 'the incident'. Their one step forward had been counteracted with two steps backward. Antonin chose to ignore the ensuing frustration that maybe it would take them longer this time to get back to where they had been before Hermione freaked out about her scar. He hadn't exactly been surprised by her reaction. In fact, he had actually expected something similar to happen the first time they had to address the physical reminder of the damned curse he sent her way in the Department of Mysteries. No matter the circumstances, he was certain that they would have trouble with the first acknowledgement.

"Time to wake up, _daragaya_ ," he whispered directly into her ear.

"Go away," she mumbled.

Antonin laughed before he ripped the covers of the bed off of her still-sleepy form. She gasped as the cool air hit her figure without warning.

"It's time for breakfast," Antonin continued.

"Not hungry. Go away."

"Hermione, we only have ten days until the party. I need to take you to Diagon Alley this morning to go shopping."

She sat up in the bed at his words. It wasn't exactly that she was eager to go shopping. No, that had never really been a favorite pastime of hers unless she was able to dig through stacks of books in a bookstore. Simply the act of doing something as _normal_ as going to Diagon Alley for a shopping trip seemed perfectly bizarre to her. She hadn't been in that part of London since before her thwarted Seventh Year. In fact, her last trip there had been to purchase a new dress for Bill and Fleur's wedding before she and the boys set off horcrux hunting. She was certain that it would be strange to return to an area that had once been so familiar.

"I made an appointment with one of the witches at Twilfitt and Tattings for a fitting for dress robes this morning," he explained. "Apparently Rabastan's party is shaping up to be _the_ social event of the year. I was lucky to get an appointment this close to the event."

"Ugh, are you still going to make me go to that?"

"I'm afraid so. I don't want to go either, but we have to keep up certain appearances."

Hermione drug herself out of the comfort of their bed to prepare for the day ahead. Knowing that she would be spending a large portion of her morning searching for a dress to wear to the damned party actually celebrating the anniversary of her friend's murder made the idea of shopping in Diagon Alley again somehow less appealing.

Despite her reservations, Hermione found herself standing in front of one of the more elite wizarding fashion stores in London just a few minutes before nine that morning. Yet another binding spell had been placed on her to prevent her from being able to move more than ten or fifteen feet away from Antonin. He obviously still didn't trust her enough to keep her untethered. She would almost be offended by his fears if she knew that she wouldn't run away the first chance she got. Living with Antonin was preferable to living in Azkaban, yes, but if she had the opportunity to seek out members of the Resistance movement she knew was operating throughout the country, she would do so in a heartbeat.

"Welcome, Mr. Dolohov," greeted the middle aged witch waiting for them at the front door the moment they crossed the threshold of the store. "I trust you are searching for an appropriate gown for the young lady?"

Hermione allowed herself to be pulled to the very back of the store where the most formal of witches' robes were kept. She was positively overwhelmed by all of the selections. The saleswitch advised her to take a good look around to see if anything struck her fancy. She sighed before facing the hundreds of robes available. Her only consolation was the fact that Antonin looked as bored with the prospect of dress shopping as she felt.

She'd dug through several racks of dresses of varying styles without any luck. After only about twenty minutes Antonin was beginning to get very frustrated. Most men didn't understand the sheer amount of work involved in picking out the proper outfit for any occasion, let alone a very formal one. Hermione had to several times hide her face behind something frilly to keep Antonin unaware that she was laughing at him. The large wizard seemed completely out of his element surrounded in taffetas and silks.

"Aren't you just going to end up picking some red frock?" he teased half an hour into the adventure.

"Now why would you assume that?"

"You're a Gryffindor. That is one of your House colors."

"So because I was Sorted into Gryffindor when I was eleven I am only allowed to wear either red or gold during a formal occasion for the rest of my life?" she teased him back. "Are Slytherins doomed to wear nothing by green for eternity? Hufflepuffs yellow and Ravenclaws blue?"

Antonin snorted and rolled his eyes.

"I happen to look very good in blue, thank you," he replied with a sniff.

"Ahh, yes, you are correct," she admitted. "You do look very handsome in dark blue robes."

He smirked at the compliment.

"Even Alecto Carrow thinks so."

The smirk slid right off his face only to be replaced with a scowl. Hermione couldn't keep herself from laughing at his expense when his expression soured so swiftly.

"You are very cheeky, Hermione," Antonin said, careful to hide the smirk that was trying to creep back up on his face from the sound of her laughter. "Now find a bleeding dress so we can get out of here! I don't care what color you choose."

She made the determination that if she was going to be forced to endure the humiliation of attending the event, she was going to look damned gorgeous doing so. Nothing but the best. Almost an hour passed before she finally selected a floor length Kelly green empire-waist dress with multiple layers of light flowing fabric that seemed to swirl behind her in waves when she walked. If the darkening of Antonin's eyes were any indication, she looked fabulous. The saleswitch measured Hermione's shape and promised to have the alterations completed a few days before the event. Much to Antonin's great pleasure, the witch also promised to pick out appropriate shoes to match the dress at Hermione's request. She was certain that if she had to endure another ten minutes of shopping with Antonin huffing irritably ten feet away, she would go completely mad in no time.

They left the bustle of the shop just as it was beginning to crowd with other witches on similar missions. Antonin kept a firm hold of her hand as they walked down the Alley despite the fact that the spell he cast meant she literally couldn't go far from him. She chose to ignore the possessiveness of the wizard to take in the many changes of the lively wizarding shopping district. At the height of the war many of the shops had been completely abandoned. Hermione was pleased to see that most of the storefronts were open and seemingly doing well. It hurt her heart just a little to see the shuttered Weasleys Wizard Wheezes. She hoped that the day would come when George would be able to reopen the business he started with his twin. A world without Weasley twins pranks didn't seem like a world much worth living in.

She found it quite an odd experience to traverse the busy district on the arm of a renowned Death Eater. Antonin Dolohov had a reputation for being ruthless and dangerous. Most of the other shoppers gave them a wide berth when they crossed paths. Antonin didn't seem to even notice how frightened many of the shoppers were of being in his close proximity. _Must get that all of the time_ , she thought. Hermione found it interesting that despite being a well-known figure herself, no one paid any attention to her while she was with Antonin. There might have been a few who recognized her, but for the most part, no one gave the witch clinging to the fearsome Death Eater a second look. She was torn between being thrilled that no one paid her any attention to being a little insulted that she obviously wasn't worth a second glance.

"I've been craving some chocolates since Valentine's Day," Antonin announced just outside of Sugarplum's Sweet Shop.

Hermione couldn't help but feel just a little bit excited to be standing in the famous sweets shop. Even though she hadn't lived with her dentist parents in a couple of years, she still felt decadently naughty when she stood in a store devoted entirely to sickeningly sweet treats. Antonin could sense her enthusiasm for the packed store at once. His smirk and request to pick out whatever she wanted warmed her just a little. It took her a long time, much longer than Antonin anyway, to pick out the box of cauldron cakes she wanted. She hadn't indulged in a sweet like those since she was back in Hogwarts before Dumbledore was killed. It felt like another lifetime ago. It was another Hermione Granger who used to swap sweets with her friends in front of the common room fire.

"Is this all that you want?" Antonin asked, taking the box from her hands.

She nodded in the affirmative and allowed her eyes to wander the confines of the shop while he settled up at the front counter. The spell meant she couldn't move very far, but to her benefit there was a great deal to see from where she stood. As the elderly wizard behind the counter took his time ringing up Antonin's purchases much to the Death Eater's dismay, Hermione stared out the front window at the crowds gathering outside. The busiest time of day was almost upon them. Shoppers were rushing up and down the Alley with their hands full of packages. If she wasn't magically bound to Antonin, she might have _almost_ been able to pretend that the world was back to normal.

A figure passed by the window quickly. Hermione wouldn't have paid it any mind if they hadn't stopped at the edge of the window, turned back around and stopped in front of the window. Neville Longbottom stood just inches away from her on the other side of the garishly painted glass. His light green eyes widened in apparent shock. When she realized who she was staring at, Hermione smiled and waved. Neville's eyes widened even further before he turned in the opposite direction to run away at full speed. Hermione longed to run after him, find out how he was doing and _what_ he was doing in the middle of Diagon Alley in the middle of the day. He was Undesirable Number One for Godric's sake! Even though she longed desperately to shout his name to make him stop running away from her, she didn't dare. The Death Eater in the shop was the last person who needed to be made aware of his existence.

"Who was that?" Antonin asked, coming to stand next to her at the window.

"Just someone I used to know," she whispered, willing her eyes not to betray her by filling up with traitorous tears.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Over a quiet breakfast on Monday, April 19th where only Hermione and Rabastan were present, Antonin received a welcome piece of owl post. Unlike his years as a student, he no longer had to worry that his message would end up in his bowl of porridge. All post in the Lestrange Manor was hand delivered by Rosie on a tiny silver tray. When the bossy elf presented the envelope to him he took it from her immediately without saying a word. After a nudge from Hermione and one glance at her raised eyebrow, Antonin rolled his eyes and sighed. He wanted everyone to know he was annoyed.

"Thank you, Rosie."

Hermione was immediately mollified by his polite response. She returned her attention to her steaming cup of tea no doubt pleased with herself for slowly bringing about improved rights for house elves everywhere. One day a simple thank you for mail delivery and the next a full pension and lovely holiday home for every elf. She could be adorably, frustratingly naïve at times.

The outside of the envelope was made of the thick parchment that always seemed to indicate an official document or Merlin forbid, a summons to appear before the Wizengamot. Antonin was almost certain he knew exactly what the envelope contained, but couldn't help but feel a little nervous as he opened it. Neither Hermione nor Rabastan were interested in his mail. He rarely received anything important.

 _Dear Mr. Dolohov,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that your offer…_

A triumphant smile crossed his features as his eyes read the remainder of the notice. Hermione glanced in his direction. His smile made her smile. Antonin placed both of his hands on her cheeks and kissed her forcefully directly on the mouth. She seemed a bit taken aback by the gesture. Rabastan laughed at her flushed cheeks.

"Good news?" Rabastan asked with an almost disinterested tone.

"Very," Antonin replied but gave no further indication that he was going to explain himself. Rabastan rolled his eyes and returned his full attention to the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. "If you will both excuse me, I have a very important errand to run immediately."

"You're being very mysterious this morning, Antonin," Hermione replied. "Where are you going?"

"I will explain everything later," he promised.

Antonin swept out of the dining room unconcerned that he hadn't even had a chance to put much of a dent in his first meal of the day. If he grew hungry later he would be able to pick something up in London following his unscheduled meeting with his solicitor.

It was early afternoon before Antonin's feet found themselves back on the Lestrange grounds. His meeting had taken a little longer than he anticipated. There always seemed to be more legal forms to sign than expected. His hand was practically numb after signing his name over and over and over again. A cursory examination of his hand showed a great splotch of black ink between his fingers, a rather inconvenient effect of using a quill for a prolonged period of time. He muttered a quick spell and pointed his wand at his hand to remove the evidence of his morning spent bent over an ink pot.

Hermione was easy enough to find when he entered the manor. As was her usual routine, she was usually in the library just after lunch. Another hour or two and she would be outside roaming the grounds with the furry beast by her side. Antonin carefully pushed open the door to the library and just as he expected, his witch was lying on the sofa with a large book propped open on her stomach. When she heard the door close, she sat up with a bright smile on her face.

"Everything all right?" she asked.

Antonin didn't answer her immediately. He gently pushed Argos away from the sofa with his foot. Then he leaned down to gently pull her up to her feet.

"You are acting very strange today, Antonin."

"I have something to show you."

Antonin pulled the witch to his chest. She smiled at the possessive gesture before allowing him to kiss her once again. The affection was over almost as soon as it began. Hermione was a bit surprised by the brevity but didn't say anything. He took her by the hand and began to pull her out of the library.

"Where are we going?" she asked the moment they stepped outside into the warm afternoon sun.

"It's a surprise."

Hermione laughed her intoxicating chuckle and allowed the determined wizard to continue pulling her towards the front gates. He refused to answer any of her endless questions. When he placed the magical tether on her once more, her smile slipped off of her face. She groaned, rolled her eyes and began stamping her small foot.

"Are you going to do this _every_ time we leave the manor?" she demanded.

"Are we going to have this same argument _every_ time we leave the manor?" he countered. She glared up at him but said nothing in reply. "This is for your own protection, Hermione. I am trying to keep you safe. If we are unable to be separated, you will be less likely to be taken away."

It was an old argument. An argument that they would likely continue to have for some time yet. Antonin sighed in frustration when he saw the witch's shoulders slump as they normally did when she knew she would lose the argument yet again.

"Let's forget it," she finally said. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

Antonin waved his wand to conjure a blindfold over her eyes. Initially shocked by the cloth blocking her vision, Hermione started to pull the covering off. He stopped her with a gentle hand.

"Do you trust me, Hermione?"

It was a loaded question. There were so many potential answers to the five words he'd just uttered. He couldn't help but be a bit nervous waiting to hear what she would say.

"Yes, Antonin. I trust that you will not do anything to harm me… _again_."

Antonin chose to ignore the qualification at the end of her answer. He took her arm in his just outside of the gates. Moments later they landed on steeps cliffs overlooking the ocean. Hermione inhaled deeply when they arrived, but didn't take the blindfold off. Loud squawks from numerous seabirds filled the otherwise silent air. They were miles from the nearest village. At least a quarter of a mile away from the nearest neighbor.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Almost there."

He grasped her hand in his and led her about thirty yards away from their Apparition point. An old, dilapidated cottage loomed up ahead. It was over a hundred years old and had been vacant for longer than the young witch next to him had been alive. A four foot high stone fence encompassed the entire area, enclosing a fairly large sized garden. When he was certain that they were standing in the perfect spot to view the cottage in its entirety, Antonin reached up to remove the blindfold.

Hermione's eyes raked over the entire area. She turned first towards the sound of the crashing of the waves on the shore. Her eyes grew wide when she spun back around to stare at the cottage. It was obvious that she was confused by her surroundings. While he hadn't explained _where_ he was taking her, this was obviously nowhere near what she anticipated.

"Where are we, Antonin?" Her voice was hardly a whisper.

"Near the north coast of Cornwall."

" _Why_ are we here?"

"I just bought that cottage."

Her eyes widened at his words. It seemed to take a few moments for the true value of his words to sink in.

"That's where I was this morning. Signing the paperwork."

Hermione's face lit up into a bright smile. She threw her arms around Antonin's neck and pulled him down for a kiss. He needed no encouragement to deepen the kiss and for several minutes the unusual couple stood in front of the old cottage snogging like fourth years under the Quidditch pitch stands. Antonin was finally the reluctant one to break the embrace.

"It needs a bit of work."

"We can finally leave the manor!" She seemed ready to move in immediately.

"It might take some time before it is ready. The cottage has been empty for a long time, but the location was exactly what I wanted."

She allowed him to lead her through the front gate by her hand. Hermione's eyes were in constant motion as she tried to take in all there was to see. Antonin released the wards on the front door. The heavy, ancient wooden door creaked when he pushed it open. He had to push the door open with his shoulder using all of his strength. Mentally he began to compose a list of what would need to be fixed. The front door would need to be placed at the very top.

"It's wonderful, Antonin," Hermione said in an awed tone the moment they entered the front room.

He couldn't help but swell a bit with pride at her words. To most people it was nothing but a rundown house that needed more work than it was worth. He was pleased to learn that Hermione could see the same potential in the place that he could when he first saw it the previous week. The owner had been anxious to unload the property. He was an elderly wizard living in London who hadn't even visited the cottage in decades. Antonin didn't even have to empty his vault to buy it which was good. He didn't have a lot of money to begin with. Being at the constant beck and call of the Dark Lord prevented him from being able to engage in typical employment. His savings was quickly depleting. Thankfully the purchase price had been more than agreeable.

"I love this old fireplace," she said, crossing the large living room to view the stone. "It's large enough that we can have it hooked up to the Floo network if you wanted to."

"Perhaps."

He would not admit when she was in such a pleasant mood that he had no intention of _ever_ connecting his cottage with the vast Floo network. Even with protective wards and passwords it was still possible for undesirables to infiltrate the security of the network. It would be a catastrophe if someone like Walden Macnair or Rowena save him, _Alecto Carrow_ could find a way to just traipse into his home. In fact, part of the initial attraction to the ramshackle abode was the simple fact that it was Unplottable. There were dozens of other protective wards he was itching to apply to the home and grounds before he deemed it safe enough for Hermione's habitation.

She wasted no time in exploring the cottage. It didn't take long. The kitchen was tiny but she immediately declared it 'adorable'. The only bedroom was a fair size with large windows that looked out over the ocean. Hermione began pointing out exactly where the theoretical furniture was going to be placed. She was pleased to find that the bathroom was massive, but a bit disappointed to realize that the plumbing was very out of date and a great deal of repair would need to be completed before the cottage was habitable. There was an unfinished attic that she declared would make a wonderful second bedroom and possible second bathroom. He'd imagined the space being converted in much the same way. When he took her down the narrow staircase to the cellar, she was entranced.

"You could set up a small potions station over there in the corner," she suggested. "I know you prefer to brew some of the more basic potions yourself."

"I can ensure the quality when I brew myself."

"I understand. The walls could be lined with bookcases. We'd both like that. Over there you could have a desk and we could put a large sofa in front of the fireplace. We would need a soft rug in front of the fireplace for…"

She stopped speaking abruptly and an anxious expression crossed her features. Antonin placed an arm around her shoulders.

"There should be plenty of room for Argos to enjoy himself," he said. "I daresay he would enjoy chasing the seagulls."

"Do you think Rabastan would let me take him?"

"I can't imagine him saying 'no' to you, _daragaya_. He hates his brother's dog and would probably be pleased to get rid of him."

His explanation seemed to appease her. He'd already thought about how Argos would fit in the cottage. Already imagined where to place the damn dog's rug and massive food bowl. He even took a walk around the property to make certain that there would be plenty of places for Argos to stretch his long legs. He was obviously growing soft in his old age. Not that forty-seven was really all that _old_ for a wizard. His great-grandfather Dolohov lived to be one hundred and eighty-five before he finally succumbed to a nasty case of dragon pox. The family often wondered how much longer he might have lived if he hadn't been exposed to the virus.

Hermione headed back upstairs to inspect the kitchen again. She had plenty of ideas on modernizing the space. Antonin was pleased to share his ideas and to find out that they had similar opinions on many issues. Not everything, of course. They would never agree on everything, but it was heartening to know that they were actually making plans for the future together. If he allowed himself to become maudlin, he would worry that she was only going to be with him until she figured out a way to escape, but he tried to stop that line of thinking as quickly as possible. It wouldn't do either of them any good to worry about a future that might not even be plausible. They stood in the dusty kitchen imagining what it could look like when they were finished.

"I love it, Antonin."

"It will take a great deal of work before it is ready for us to move in."

"I don't care. It's wonderful."

She was back in his arms before his mind registered what she was doing. In a repeat of earlier when they were standing outside, Hermione was the one to initiate the kiss. Emotions were running high between them. The excitement of knowing that eventually, even if it took a couple of months, they would be free from the Lestrange Manor was a heady feeling. They kissed once more like teenagers. Antonin had to ignore the disturbing realization that Hermione was, in fact, _still_ technically a teenager. It was almost enough to ruin the mood. A quiet moan escaping from his witch and a well-placed nip at the base of his neck was all it took to banish the disconcerting contemplations.

Antonin placed both of his hands on her trim waist. She weighed next to nothing even after all of the food Rosie forced the girl to eat daily. He had her seated on the counter in front of him with hardly any effort. Hermione spread her knees just enough that he was able to place his body between them. He almost groaned out loud when he felt her thighs tighten slightly on either side of his torso. She ran her hands through his hair, lightly tugging on it at times while they continued to explore each other's mouths. There was a passion between them that had never been that intense. Even the morning he'd kissed her scar or the night he pushed her up against the bookshelves in the library hadn't been this passionate.

His hands would not remain still for very long. He ran them up and down her back, through her unruly and wonderful hair, down her sides and up again to cup her breasts. She gasped into his mouth the moment his thumbs brushed against her stiffened nipples. He couldn't stop the smile the crept onto his face at the welcome noise. It was all of the encouragement he needed to grasp the bottom of her jumper and pull it over her head. She shivered when the cool air hit her bare skin, but he couldn't be sure if it was because of the temperature in the room or something else entirely. In case it was the temperature of the room causing her goose bumps, he wrapped his large arms around her entire body.

The noises she was making almost made him come completely undone. How could he be expected to keep a semblance of control over his own body when she was making the soft little moans that he longed to hear? He wanted to hear her scream out his name, hopefully repeatedly, but he would settle for the gasps and sighs he was hearing right then. His hands seemed to have a mind of their own. When did he grow so bold with her? In the past with other witches he had been authoritative, direct and at times, unkind. He hadn't been lying when he told her that first night that a witch had never come to his bed who didn't want to be there, but there were times when he had one in his bed that he wasn't gentle or thoughtful. His behavior had never bothered him particularly in the past, in the time before _her_. Now, all he wanted to do was make sure that she was comfortable and _happy_.

She gently pushed him from her when his hands moved to the clasp of her bra. He immediately stopped moving, stopped breathing just to take in the sight of her swollen, red lips and flushed features. Her chest was heaving with her efforts to catch the breath he'd stolen. His hands rested on her covered thighs. He hadn't realized until just then that she'd worn pants instead of a skirt or dress like she normally did. _Probably safer that way_ , he thought. They stared at each other without speaking for several long moments. He tried not to dwell on the fact that her hands were still around his neck, her fingers still toying with the ends of his hair.

A loud knock on the front door surprised both of them. Hermione hopped off of the counter to search for her discarded jumper. Antonin tried to rush to the front door before their unexpected visitor entered, but unfortunately, he hadn't remembered to shut the bulky front door after he struggled to open it. The new owner of the cottage wasn't even outside of the kitchen area before they were both joined by a rather flustered Gregory Goyle.

"Oh, excuse me!"

The young wizard turned his eyes abruptly away from the still partially clad Hermione. She hadn't been able to pull her clothing back on in time to prevent the embarrassing moment. Antonin moved his body in front of hers to shield her modesty while she frantically pulled the shirt back on. Goyle continued to stare out into the empty living room, his cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Dolohov," the wizard apologized. "I was certain that you asked me to come at four."

 _Shit_. He was right. After a lengthy conversation with Gary the week before, Antonin learned that his son had been picking up remodeling and carpentry jobs here and there since leaving Hogwarts at the end of the war. Gary claimed that his son had finally found something that he actually excelled in. The wizard hadn't shut up about his son. He'd sent the young wizard an owl with a time-activated portkey requesting his presence for a potential job. There was a lot of work that needed to be completed. Antonin didn't want to have to wait months for a more established contractor to become available. He'd give the kid a chance.

"Ahh, yes, Gregory. I did. I'm afraid I was a bit distracted."

Hermione snorted loudly behind him and buried her face in her hands to keep from laughing aloud. Antonin could feel the corners of his mouth threaten to curl up into a broad grin. Young Gregory looked as if he would rather be anywhere else in the world than standing in the kitchen with the fearsome Death Eater his father warned him to never anger and the bossy, know-it-all Gryffindor who he used to torment in school.

"Hermione and I have some ideas, but let's take a quick tour of the cottage. We can discuss this in more detail when you see the extent of the repairs needed."

It was almost seven o'clock before Antonin and Hermione were back in front of the gates of the Lestrange Manor. Once over the initial embarrassment of Gregory walking in on them in a _delicate_ situation, the three were able to spend several hours discussing the plans for the future of their new home. Goyle had a three foot long parchment filled with ideas and suggestions from Hermione alone. He would be starting work within the next week. Initial estimates put moving into the cottage at the earliest as being a minimum of four weeks away.

"I wish we didn't have to come back here," Hermione grumbled the moment their feet touched the ground outside of the gates. Antonin released the spell tethering her to him, but replaced it with his hand on her waist. "I'm not sure how I'm going to be able to live here until we can leave."

Antonin placed a kiss on her head amongst her curls. He hoped he was being reassuring.

"Time will, hopefully, pass by quickly," he answered.

Rosie met them at the front door to escort them immediately to the family dining room. Their return had been timed perfectly to join Rabastan for a rare quiet meal with just the three of them present. The master of the manor was pleased to learn that he wouldn't be dining alone.

"I'm planning on taking Thorfinn to Lucius' manor later this evening to drink more of Lucius' wine," he announced during their first course. "He should be arriving soon."

"Reason Number One why I cannot _wait_ to move to Antonin's cottage," Hermione replied. "No unexpected visits from Thorfinn Rowle."

Rabastan laughed at her response.

"My dear Hermione, you are too hard on Thorfinn. He is a lively and entertaining guest. Much better conversationalist than Vince and most certainly more intelligent."

"I've never said that he wasn't intelligent, Rabastan. Nor did I say he wasn't _amusing_ to converse with at times. I am just not a big fan of the man popping in at random times. I _hate_ when he drops into the library when I'm trying to be alone."

Antonin's ears perked up at her last comment. He had not been aware that Thorfinn was visiting Hermione while she was alone in the library as often as she admitted. Where was he when Rowle was pestering his witch and cornering her in the library? Not for the first time he was thankful that the damned dog never allowed Hermione to be alone outside of his regularly scheduled meal times. At least he could be confident to know that the man wasn't able to harm her while the massive canine was around.

"How long until you are able to move into your new home, Antonin?" Rabastan queried.

"A few weeks, four, five, _maybe_ six," he answered.

Rabastan turned his attention back to Hermione.

"Is there plenty of space for Argos to roam and be comfortable?"

Hermione dropped her fork at the unexpected question. Her entire countenance shifted into a beaming grin when she realized that there would be no problem in extricating the bloody mongrel from the estate.

"It's near the ocean. He will be able to chase all of the seabirds he likes," she answered. "Are you certain that you are all right with me taking your dog?"

"He's not my dog, Hermione," he responded. "That animal was my brother's dog. Rodolphus was the one who brought that beast home and cared for it. It's only been at Rosie's insistence that I haven't thrown it out the gates or ended it with a quick _Avada_."

Hermione actually gasped at the callous mention of murdering her beloved dog. Her naivety could still surprise Antonin at the most random times. She had been living in the Lestrange Manor with two confirmed Death Eaters for almost three months and the casual mention of murder still shocked her sensibilities. He wondered if there would ever come a day that she would be jaded and used to such talk. Part of him sincerely hoped not. There was something _precious_ about Hermione that he fervently wished he could keep sheltered.

"Do you hate animals?" she asked.

"No, I don't _hate_ them," he answered. "Just don't love them like Rodolphus did."

"Your brother was an animal lover?" Hermione seemed skeptical. Somehow believing the husband of Bellatrix was a fan of the cute and cuddly was hard to fathom.

"Yes, Roddy bloody loved animals. All of them. Didn't matter what kind of animal it was, he loved it. Loved them a hell of a lot more than people, that's for certain."

Rabastan emptied his wine glass in one swallow. What he wished to discuss obviously required some additional liquid courage.

"Father always said that Roddy's love for animals was because he was weak and required constant affection. Said that Mother spoiled him. She died when I was three and Roddy was ten. Father always said that the wrong son was born first. Said that I should've been the elder because Rodolphus was too fragile."

Antonin always knew that the elder Lestrange brother was the more docile of the two, but part of him assumed that was only because he was constantly under the thumb of his much more assertive wife. There had never been a question of who was in charge in that marriage. Rodolphus was led around by the woman. Hearing that this was a set of behaviors that began in childhood wasn't exactly surprising. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed intrigued by the description of the wizard she never knew. They'd only had dealings with each other during the mess at the Department of Mysteries. Rodolphus disappeared the night he fell off of his broom during the battle where all of the bloody Order members disguised themselves as the Potter boy with polyjuice potion. No one had seen or heard from the wizard since that night. Most, including his horrid wife and the Dark Lord, assumed that he'd died of his injuries and his body was never recovered. Antonin thought the man was too resourceful for such an ignominious death. He assumed that he was simply biding his time and waiting for the day that _both_ his wife and the Dark Lord were dead before revealing he'd been alive all this time.

"Grandfather raised champion Scottish Deerhounds," Rabastan continued. "We were inundated with dogs growing up. They were everywhere. As children we were taught how to recognize quality breeding in our hounds. Tell the champions from the runts that simply needed to be drowned at birth. Grandfather used his dogs for Muggle hunting."

" _Muggle_ hunting?" Hermione asked, her voice squeaking up to a high octave in disgust.

"Yes, Hermione dear. It is _exactly_ what it sounds like. You've seen a fox hunt, I'm sure? In Muggle hunting they used Muggles. The dogs were trained to track and catch the Muggles. It is highly illegal. The Ministry banned it over one hundred years ago, but many of the Old Families continued to tradition well into the twentieth century. Deerhounds are larger than the hounds they use for fox hunting, of course. Muggles tend to be a great deal larger than your average fox."

Rabastan seemed pleased with the barbarity of his ancestors. Antonin was proud to know that his family had never participated in such acts. He'd always hated Muggles, of course, but he couldn't imagine stooping to such a viciousness to simply entertain a group of bored aristocrats. Dolohovs murdered their Muggles with steel in their hands or with relatively painless spells. Hermione was disgusted with the explanation of an antiquated wizarding sport that had gone out of favor.

"Roddy wasn't allowed near Grandfather's dogs. They were bred to be cruel and vicious. If it were up to my elder brother, he would've hand fed them all the finest cuts of beef and then tucked them in with handmade quilts."

"I'll admit I was surprised to hear that your brother was an animal lover," Hermione responded. "Seems out of character for Bellatrix's husband."

Rabastan laughed at her last comment. Again, Antonin couldn't help but find her naivety adorable.

"My brother had an arranged marriage, my dear. Father and Grandfather hoped that being married to a Black would aid my brother in developing a bit more a spine. If it didn't, they were at least hopeful that his heir would take after his mother," he explained. "The first few years of their marriage were rather difficult for them until Roddy gave up all desire of ever being in control. Bella ruled with an iron fist. She forced the skirts on my elder brother while she pranced around in his trousers. When it became painfully obvious that their marriage would never produce a child for him to coddle and corrupt with his weakness, Roddy focused on his animals."

Their host finished another glass of wine before continuing his tale. Antonin thought that if the man was planning on enjoying Lucius' wine without an invitation, he should slow down on drinking his own before he left. Apparently speaking of his brother made Rabastan a bit on edge.

"When we escaped from Azkaban before that horrible debacle at the Ministry, Rodolphus disappeared one day from the manor. Bella was furious. When he returned he had the smallest, most pathetic Saint Bernard puppy you've ever seen in your life. One look at Argos and I could see that he was the runt of his litter. He was the one that Grandfather would have forced us to drown immediately."

"That's horrible. Argos is a good dog."

"You may be fond of him. Roddy was certainly fond of him too, but that is _not_ a champion. His coloring is all off and has been since birth. He has that large black mark on his front leg and then he has several other black spots on his belly. We always killed the pups with substandard markings. Grandfather said that it proved there had been a mistake in their development.

"Roddy came traipsing in with that runt under his arm. Bella was furious! She ripped the puppy out of his arms with such force that she broke his front left leg in at least two separate places. My brother was almost in tears listening to the animal whimper. She wouldn't allow him to heal the wounds for hours. The damn creature just huddled into a ball at Rodolphus' feet and cried. Once she realized that the Dark Lord would never be interested in setting up his base of operations in her husband's manor, Bella packed up and moved in with her sister. Rodolphus stayed here to care for and pamper his stupid dog."

"Sounds like a better life to me," Hermione replied with her chin raised firmly in the air. "I would rather live with Argos than anyone who lived in Malfoy Manor."

"Yes, well, I think my brother was a bit jealous of Argos' life. He wished he could lie around all day in front of the fireplace and Merlin save us, receive unlimited belly rubs."

Rabastan burst out laughing.

"Did you know that he once even tried to become an Animagus? This was before we were shipped off to Azkaban back in the eighties. Personally, I think he was desperate to transform himself into some fluffy beast of a dog so he could spend the rest of his life cuddled up in someone's lap being fed liver snacks!"

He could hardly breathe he was laughing so hard. His face began to turn an almost alarming shade of red.

"Was he successful? That's an extremely difficult bit of magic," Hermione said.

"My brother might have been weak as a human being, but he was a powerful wizard. He went through all of the meditations to become an Animagus. Studied for years. Held the leaf of a mandrake in his mouth for an entire month much to Bella's disgust. The only problem my poor brother had with that particular form of magic was that he was unable to choose his animal form himself. He went through all of that training and when he was finally able to transform into an animal, it wasn't the animal he wanted. He would never be able to laze around the manor in front of the fireplace as he wished."

"What form did he take?" Antonin asked, despite his previous lack of interest in the story. Every witch or wizard contemplated becoming an Animagus at some point in their lives. Almost all give it up as being too difficult and time consuming.

"I'm not sure exactly. Some kind of rodent, I think. He only transformed once for Bella. Never for me. She laughed so hard when she saw his form that he vowed to never do it again. It was something with a rather impressive tail, I believe. She took to calling him 'Fuzzy' for a long time after that."

"It's impressive that he was successful," added Hermione. "Even if it was a form he didn't wish for. I could see a lot of benefits in transforming into a rodent, but a dog, even a yappy terrier would be more remarkable."

"Indeed," Rabastan agreed. "So he brought home the reject of the litter after we escaped instead of becoming the dog himself. Argos changed dramatically after Rodolphus went missing. No one else loved him. The house elves care for his basic needs, of course, but it wasn't until you moved in, Hermione, that he began to perk back up to his former self. It would make me very happy for you to take him with you when you leave."

Hermione thanked him once more. The three of them settled into a much more quiet dinner when Rabastan was finished speaking. It wasn't until the arrival of Thorfinn Rowle once more to the manor that Hermione began to stir. The man's voice was travelling to the dining room from the Entrance Hall where he was speaking to the house elf who had the misfortune to answer the door.

"If you will both excuse me," Hermione said as she rose from her chair. "I think I will take Argos with me for a walk around the grounds."

She escaped from the dining room only a minute or two before Thorfinn entered. Antonin was pleased to see that she was not anxious in the slightest to be around the blonde wizard. Alecto Carrow could keep her bloody ridiculous notions to herself from then on. It was obvious that Hermione wouldn't allow Rowle close enough to touch her.

"Would you care to join us at Lucius'?" Rabastan asked Antonin when the three men exited the dining room only a short time after Hermione left.

"No, thank you. I've had a long day. I'd like to stay here."

The other two teased him for his answer, but they did allow him to accompany them to the front gates. Antonin planned on finding where Hermione was at on the grounds before heading back into the house. She was hovering near the formal gardens where the elaborate hedge maze was located. Argos was attempting to get her to chase him, but she humored him by simply throwing a loose stick.

"Did they finally leave?" she asked when he came to stand next to her by the entrance to the maze. He nodded in the affirmative. "Good. I don't think I'm up to handling a single remark from Thorfinn this evening. And that story from Rabastan? Wow! Is it weird that I feel some sympathy for his horrible brother?"

"Not at all," Antonin answered as he placed a kiss on her forehead. "You have a gentle spirit, Hermione."

She allowed him to wrap his arm around her shoulder once more. They hadn't discussed what happened in the kitchen earlier that day before they were interrupted. He wondered how far they would have gone if young Goyle hadn't arrived when he did. Imagining finally taking Hermione completely on their kitchen counter was an intoxicating thought that made his trousers grow tight.

"Have you ever gone inside that maze?" Hermione asked, her attempt to change the conversation topic embarrassingly obvious.

"Once or twice. It's an interesting feature. There are enchanted lanterns to light the way and an extraordinary fountain in the center."

She smiled that beguiling smirk of hers that made Antonin's blood instantly flow south. Her steps changed towards the entrance of the maze. It wasn't hard to figure that she wanted to explore what it had to offer.

"Want to race?"

Antonin couldn't help but laugh at the eagerness in her whiskey colored eyes. He loved to see the mischievous sparkle.

"Race? Perhaps. What are the prizes for winning?" he asked.

She shrugged his arm off of her shoulder. He didn't appreciate the gesture and tried to grab for her again. The witch laughed and swatted his hands away.

"If you win…" she started.

"Yes? What do I win?"

"If you reach the center first, we can finish what we started in the kitchen earlier."

Antonin felt his mouth grow dry at the words that fell from her lips. He was determined that he would reach the center of the maze first even if he had to blast a hole through the entire thing first.

"You will have an unfair advantage," he stated as he pointed to Argos. "The dog has been in the maze countless times. I'm certain he will show you the way."

"Maybe."

"What do you get if _you_ reach the center first?"

She leaned in to whisper her answer directly into his ear.

"If I reach the center first, we can finish what we started in the kitchen earlier."

He couldn't exactly argue with those terms. She wasted no time in turning and rushing into the maze at full speed. The dog followed her lead soon after. While he knew that regardless of who entered the center of the maze first they would both be rewarded, the competitive side to his nature wanted to be the winner. Antonin ran after his witch into the interior of the hedge maze.

Her laughter rang throughout the entire area. He knew that she was every bit as determined as he to win. Antonin tried to remember the last time he had been in the maze and how he'd made it to the middle. He knew that using his wand would technically be cheating since she didn't have one, but he was a Death Eater for crying out loud. They were not exactly known for following all of the rules!

He entered the center of the maze several minutes later with the aid of a few helpful spells. To his excitement he realized she hadn't arrived yet. He was the winner! Her laughter and Argos' encouraging barks drifted towards his ears. He stood just next to the only way to enter the center from her side of the maze. Based on the increasing volume of noise, she wasn't far.

The moment Hermione's feet crossed into the center of the maze Antonin grabbed her by the waist. Her initial shriek of surprise quickly turned into laughter of delight. As he crushed his lips to hers and pulled her to the ground on top of him, it was one of those moments when they could both forget the absurdity of their situation and just give in to the moment.

Antonin rolled their bodies without removing his lips from hers. She broke the kiss for the briefest of moments when her back hit the soft grass below. He could feel his erection growing almost painful at the sight of her dilated pupils. She wanted him. Their relationship was bizarre and it made no sense to the intellectual mind, but it was clear that the slow burn of their mutual desire had grown to a full-fledged bonfire. For the second time that day he removed the jumper from her body. She returned the favor. They pressed their naked torsos against each other when she removed the pesky bra that seemed to keep getting in the way. Their lips met and they fought for dominance with their tongues. Antonin groaned at the sensation of her breasts against his bare flesh. It was a feeling he could definitely get used to.

He lavished her entire body with hot, wet kisses that made her sigh and even whimper at one point. His mouth and his hands occupied her breasts to the point that she was practically crying his name out.

"Antonin… _please_."

The wizard wasn't entirely sure what his witch was begging for, but he was determined that whatever it was, he would give it to her. His hands slipped down to the buttons on her pants at the same moment that hers slipped down to his. In mere moments they were both as naked as the day they were brought into the world. Antonin felt his eyes incapable of completely drinking in the sight of his witch's unimaginable nakedness. She was more beautiful than he realized. The way she gazed at him as her eyes raked in the sight of his bare flesh proved that she wasn't disappointed in what she was seeing in the least.

Neither of them could breathe. The anticipation was too great. Antonin's hands slipped down to Hermione's bare, creamy thighs. With the slightest pressure of encouragement she opened herself up fully to him. He settled himself at her entrance, preparing for the onslaught of pleasure he'd been dreaming about for years. Hermione literally whimpered underneath him at the feel of his member brushing against the outside of her most private and exquisite parts. He took a deep breath, willed his beating heart to slow down and…

His fucking arm began to burn. He was being summoned by the Dark Lord, his Master of Cockblocks. If there had ever been a more inconvenient time to be called upon to his side, it was the second before he slid into his witch's wet and waiting… He couldn't even complete the thought. The frustration was too great. He groaned louder than a dying boar and willed himself to stand up.

"Are you being summoned?"

He couldn't even answer her with words. Simply nodded as he pulled his fucking trousers back on. He dressed quickly. The Dark Lord did not like to be kept waiting. Before he left he kissed her and promised that they would finish this the moment he returned.

* * *

He wouldn't return to the manor for twelve fucking days. The Dark Lord sent him on a mission to his parents' homeland to find out if the rumors that the rebels were recruiting there were true. It had been twelve of the most frustrating days of his life. When he finally returned to his master's side to report that the rumors seemed to be just that, _rumors_ , he was released with the message for Rabastan that unfortunately, the Dark Lord would be unable to attend his reception that evening.

He had forgotten the damned party. The sun wasn't even up yet on the morning of May 1st, the day before the first anniversary of the victory at Hogwarts and the day of the damned party. Despite the early hour the manor grounds were already besieged with an army of house elves preparing for the festivities ahead. Antonin longed for nothing more than a hot shower and long sleep in his bed with his witch curled up next to him.

She was asleep when he entered the room. He showered as swiftly as he could. By the time he was able to slip underneath their covers, Hermione woke with a start. She threw her slim arms around his broad torso and squeezed with all of her strength. In the darkness he couldn't tell if she was crying, but somehow he knew that she was.

"I was so worried, Antonin."

"Shh, _daragaya_ , I'm back. I'm sorry I wasn't able to get word to you. It was a very secret trip."

She snuggled into his chest and he was certain that he could be killed that second by a falling meteor and be perfectly content.

"I understand, but I still missed you."

"I missed you too, Hermione."

He kissed her soundly and though she seemed prepared to make good on the promise he made the moment before he left the maze, his body desperately needed sleep. She understood. When she snuggled back into his chest and his arms were around her tiny frame, she made him a promise he wasn't likely to forget.

"Tonight, Antonin. Tonight after the party we will finish what we started in the maze. I promise."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

She sat on the edge of their bed fully dressed in her formal gown watching Antonin finish getting dressed in his finest dress robes. Deep blue, of course. They'd both slept in quite late that morning out of sheer exhaustion. Antonin hadn't been sleeping more than a few hours at a time wherever he could spare them for almost two weeks. His impromptu trip to Russia had taken a lot out of him. Hermione had been unable to sleep much in his absence for entirely different reasons. She'd been in almost constant fear since the night Antonin left her naked in the hedge maze.

She knew she couldn't exactly blame him for his abandonment. He served a cruel master who cared for nothing but his own treacherous agenda. Antonin was at his mercy and when he was summoned, her protector had no choice but to leave. If she'd spent the previous twelve days alone with only Argos' company in the privacy of their own cottage she might have had an easier time with his absence. As it was, Rabastan decided to take advantage of Antonin's absence. He followed her around the manor. A few nights she swore that he came into their room while she was asleep. Her fear had gotten bad enough that she ignored Antonin's rules against dogs being in the bed. By the fourth night of his mission, Argos spent every night huddled protectively next to his mistress drooling on Antonin's pillow.

Lestrange had even invited guests. Thorfinn was an almost daily visitor. The two wizards spent most evenings in Lucius' drawing room consuming his fine wines and no doubt sexually harassing his poor goddaughter. She didn't really mind Thorfinn as much as she used to. He could make her laugh and as much as she hated to admit it to herself, she actually felt _safer_ when the massive blonde wizard was in the manor. No, it was randomly bumping into Walden in the corridors or the blasted Carrows that unnerved her the most. One night she was trying to escape up to her room while Argos was preoccupied with his evening meal in the kitchen. Walden actually physically stopped her in the darkened shadows on the first landing on the stairs. His hand brushed against her bare elbow and the gleam in his eyes made her feel nauseous. He grinned at her, feared for her life and was immediately saved by Thorfinn rushing up the stairs. He escorted her to her bedroom and every night afterwards she accompanied Argos to the kitchen to watch him eat.

No one could, or would, give her any information about Antonin's whereabouts. Part of her feared that he would never return. What would happen to her then? A week into his disappearance Thorfinn attempted to reassure her as he drank more of Antonin's fire whiskey in the library while he waited for Rabastan.

 _"Don't worry so much about him, Princess. He's a very capable wizard. He will be back before you know it to silently brood in a dark corner like he likes to do."_

She was certain when she felt the bed dip when he returned that Rabastan was finally about to do what his eyes always promised. She'd been convinced that Antonin was dead and Rabastan was coming to claim her for his own. When she turned over and saw Antonin's familiar features awash in moonlight, she burst out crying. In that moment she knew she was safe again. Her future seemed less unsure with her Antonin by her side.

"You look very nice," she said when Antonin finished buttoning the final button on his robes.

"Thank you." He crossed the room to give her a very short peck on the lips. "You look beautiful tonight, _daragaya_."

She shifted uncomfortably under his intense gaze. Rosie had been insistent that despite her other duties required as head house elf, she would make sure that _Missy Hermione_ was presentable. The persistent elf was able to straighten her frizzled curls and twist it up in a chic chignon that was most certainly held up entirely by magic. Rosie spent over an hour making certain that she would be one of the most beautiful guests at the party. If Antonin's reaction when they finally emerged from the bathroom was any indication, they were successful.

"How long do I have to stay downstairs?" she asked not even bothering to hide the prominent pout on her lips.

"I don't care, honestly," he replied as he sat down on the bed next to her. "Rabastan said there would be fireworks at midnight. If you wanted to wait until then to make your appearance, it would be all right with me."

"What about you? Do you want to hide upstairs with me?" She winked, hoping he understood her true meaning.

"Very, _very_ tempting offer, Hermione, but I'm afraid I must rub some elbows. Most of my associates will know I'm back in the country this evening. It might seem suspicious if I don't make my presence known."

"Not to mention Rabastan will be insufferable if you don't attend."

Antonin grasped one of her hands in his and brought it up to his lips for a kiss.

"You know him too well. We would never hear the end of it," he agreed.

"Do you want me to come with you?" She begged him to say 'no' internally. Spending an entire evening socializing with Death Eaters and Ministry officials sounded awful, especially considering the fact they were all gathered to celebrate the murder of her best friend.

"Nothing would make me happier than to have a beautiful witch on my arm that I could show off. I would be the envy of all of the guests," he answered. "But I know how distasteful this party is for you and I wouldn't wish you to be forced into any awkward conversations. I don't want you to have to converse with anyone you hate."

"Thank you, Antonin."

He rose from the bed and gave her a final kiss before disappearing into the corridor. Already the sounds of the orchestra and guests mingling throughout the house and grounds were audible. Rabastan was more than a little pleased to announce at dinner the night before that he'd already received over one thousand confirmed acceptances via owl. He expected his celebration to be the event of the year. Most of dinner had been spent listening to the man brag about the damned party. Thorfinn caught Hermione's eye multiple times during the meal to roll his eyes and make her laugh. Even Vince and Gary were less than entertained by his incessant rambling.

The clock on Antonin's nightstand chimed the nine o'clock hour. She almost didn't hear the sound over the rising noise of the party. Hermione sat on the comfortable sofa in front of the fireplace completely engrossed in a book about goblin rebellions in the fourteenth century. Somehow the author was able to make them sound much more interesting than Professor Binns ever could. Argos was downstairs in the kitchen lying in front of the fire and hoping the harried elves would be extra clumsy with the food platters in the excitement of the evening.

Hermione was so thoroughly distracted that she didn't even notice the door to the bedroom open a few minutes after nine. She also didn't see the wizard enter until he was standing in front of her only inches away. He probably only stood there for three or four seconds before Hermione finally spotted him. She felt her heart leap into her throat and her pulse began to race.

"Damn it, Rabastan!" she hissed a moment after she calmed down. Lestrange was leering down at her with a satisfied smirk on his face. "What do you want?"

"I want to know why you aren't downstairs enjoying my fabulous party, my dear," he answered. His eyes raked in her form. Like Antonin, his appreciation was obvious. "A dress like that begs to be shown off, Hermione."

"Antonin said I could stay up here until the fireworks."

Rabastan snatched her book out of her hands. Before she could protest he had his hands around her waist and she was standing only inches from the man. Ignoring her struggling, Rabastan pulled the young witch to the door that led to the corridor. He took hold of her hand and removed her forcibly from the sanctuary of her bedroom. With a wave of his wand the door began to glow blue. Hermione yanked her hand out of his grip and tried to touch the door. Each attempt simply caused her to gently bump off of the door.

"The wards on your door will disappear at three in the morning," Rabastan announced with a laugh. "I suggest you enjoy the festivities downstairs until that time."

Rabastan began to stride down the long hallway towards the cacophony of the party. Midway down the corridor he stopped and turned back around to address a furious Hermione.

"Oh, and don't think you can simply hide away in the library either. If I don't see you out on the grounds with my guests, my darling Hermione, I will endeavor to find your hiding place and proceed to attach you to my side with a permanent sticking charm. I know how much you would hate that."

Not for the first time in the four months since she moved into Lestrange's Manor she wished she had her wand. She could think of a thousand different nasty little hexes and jinxes she wanted to send down the hallway to hit the man. He could be so infuriating! Hermione took a deep breath to calm her nerves. It would be suicidal to even attempt to hurt the man. She was unfortunately, at his complete mercy. Antonin was the only person keeping her protected.

Hermione took her time walking down the long hallway towards the staircase. She knew better than to assume that Rabastan was bluffing. Unfortunately, hiding in her bedroom and hiding in the library would not be options. She briefly wondered if the house elves would notice if she lay down next to Argos on the kitchen rug watching for scraps to fall to the floor. _Probably_. The sounds of laughter and music wafted up the staircase. She stood at the top step to get a better view of the Entrance Hall. Witches and wizards were walking in and out of the manor dressed in their finest robes. Everyone seemed to be having an enjoyable evening. Knowing that every single person downstairs and outside on the grounds was there to revel in the fact that Harry Potter was dead made Hermione angry.

She passed an elf at the bottom of the stairs holding a silver tray filled with full champagne glasses. A flute was in each hand before she allowed the elf to move on to the next guest. If she was going to be forced to attend the fucking party, she wouldn't do so sober. She had been with the guests for approximately four seconds before she was recognized and the whispers started. No one wanted to actually engage her in conversation, but most of them seemed perfectly content to talk _about_ her. She swallowed both glasses of champagne in quick succession before stepping out the front door.

The activity on the grounds was even worse than inside. There seemed to be a thousand people outside alone. A veritable rainbow of formal dress robes crossed her path. Hermione wasn't sure where she wanted to go. She knew that she had to at least make eye contact with Rabastan at some point. Perhaps Antonin was conversing with someone not too horrible. Another floating tray of champagne (actually it was perched on an elf's head) passed her by. She took another two glasses and began walking amongst the guests.

It was a Who's Who of every single person she hated in the Wizarding world with the exception of the bloody Dark Lord himself. She recognized many guests that had been there for private dinners with Rabastan. Even recognized several she'd only seen looking down a wand. Many of the revelers had tried to murder her on multiple occasions. Walden Macnair raised his glass in salute to her when she passed by. She simply glared at the lecherous old wizard as he examined her entire body. No doubt he was imagining what she had underneath the beautiful Kelly green gown. Albert Runcorn stared at her with narrowed eyes. He didn't move towards her to make an effort to speak to her thankfully. The heavily pregnant witch hanging on his arm looked miserable. She would've felt sorry for the woman if she didn't suspect she was carrying Runcorn's spawn. Yaxley and his surprisingly pretty wife nodded in her direction when she passed by. He had been nothing but polite to her in his many visits to the manor. She didn't have anything _personally_ against that particular Death Eater so she nodded back in their direction.

Vince greeted her with an overfamiliarity that made her stomach clench. He leaned down to brush his whiskey soaked lips across her cheek. While his best mate Gary laughed at the discomfort Hermione felt at the attention, he snaked his arm around her waist and actually sniffed her neck. She could just imagine the man running his disgusting tongue across the soft skin at her throat. The thought made her cringe. Gary pinched her bum and burst out laughing at the furious glare she shot at him.

"You'd think, Vince, that after spending almost two entire weeks away from his witch that Antonin might be keeping a closer eye on her," laughed Gary.

"Please remove your hands, Vince," she said through clenched teeth. Surprisingly he complied with her request. She expected to have to put up more of a fight.

Hermione managed to get about a foot away before Gary's hand grabbed her waist and he roughly pulled her into his chest. The wizard whispered a warning or possibly a threat into her hair.

"Be careful, Hermione. There are those at this party that would like to see you harmed. Don't find yourself alone. You won't like what happens. Stay around the other guests."

Gary Goyle released his hold on her almost as if she were made of molten lava. He couldn't get his hands off of her fast enough. With a discreet nod towards his friend, he and Vince disappeared amongst the crowd. Hermione wasn't sure how to process Gary's warning. She certainly wasn't _planning_ on being backed into a corner with an enemy, but she did unfortunately, have an awful time of finding herself in trouble. She slammed her third glass of champagne back. The alcohol was slowly beginning to make its presence felt in the tingling in her body. She briefly wondered if Rabastan would release the wards on her bedroom early if she got revoltingly intoxicated and began to make an absolute fool of herself in front of his posh guests. She imagined Antonin would come running the moment she started to disrobe and swim in the garden fountains. Maybe all she would have to do was get drunk enough to vomit near the refreshment tables. There were certainly reporters with their camerawizards documenting the 'Party of the Year'. Rabastan wouldn't want them to get any snaps of his house guest throwing up on the canapés.

A short, squatty, toad-faced witch dressed in the most god-awful floral robes made eye contact with Hermione across the front gardens. Dolores Umbridge sneered when she saw her former student. No doubt she was angry that for whatever reason, Hermione was no longer trapped in a Ministry cell at her mercy or stuck in Azkaban at the mercy of the dementors. Hermione was certain that the woman had a great deal to say on the subject. When the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic glared at her and began walking straight in her direction, Hermione began to panic. The last time she saw that woman she was hit with the strongest Cruciatus Curse she'd ever experienced. Umbridge wanted her dead and Hermione wasn't entirely certain that she wouldn't try something in the middle of the party.

Hermione used her vast knowledge of the layout of the formal gardens to her advantage in her attempt to elude the witch. She practically ran as fast as she could towards the area that held the hedge maze and the extensive topiary collection. Thankfully, the other witch's legs were too short to catch up with her before she was able to disappear behind a hedge. Hermione resorted to literally crouching down on the ground behind a four foot high shrub to avoid the woman.

"Avoiding someone, Princess?"

She almost groaned out loud when she saw the shadow that could only belong to Thorfinn Rowle fall across her body. Turning slightly to look up into the amused man's face, Hermione tried to convey all of her anger and frustration with a single expression. It was a face that used to make Harry and Ron run to the opposite side of the common room in fear. Thorfinn simply found it entertaining.

"Rabastan will be so disappointed to know that you found his party so distasteful that you resorted to crouching in the bushes."

"Shut up, Thorfinn!" she hissed under her breath. "Is Dolores Umbridge still headed this way?"

Thorfinn surveyed the area near her hiding place. Hermione watched his features for a hint of what he was seeing. It was still too risky for her to stand up in case the horrid bitch of a woman spotted her. She didn't _think_ Umbridge would try anything, but she couldn't be certain. They had exceptionally bad blood between each other. Theirs was a feud that would likely never disappear. When the first one died, the other would gladly dance and spit on the other's grave.

"She's obviously looking for someone," he answered. "What did you do, Princess?"

"Never mind that! Is she headed this way?"

He watched the Ministry official for several more minutes before he declared it safe for Hermione to stand. Umbridge had given up. Thorfinn extended a hand to help the witch to her feet. She was thankful for the gesture. Her muscles had begun to stiffen up after being in such an awkward position for so long.

"You clean up nice. Where's your tiara, Princess?" Thorfinn continued to tease.

"Thanks, Thorfinn. That _almost_ qualifies as polite conversation. From you, though, I'll take it. Won't likely get any better."

The blonde laughed at her response. She took the time to take a closer look at his choice of outfits for the evening. It almost pained her to admit that he too, 'cleaned up nice'. His dark green robes were almost black and they were obviously tailor made to fit his muscular frame. She suppressed a laugh at the almost charitable thoughts she had about the man.

"Where's your jailer? Shouldn't he be protecting you from terrifying, middle-aged witches with ghastly fashion sense?"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at his description of Dolores Umbridge. She was truly an awful human being. One day she hoped she could murder the bitch. Or at the very least wave to her as she was dragged off to Azkaban.

"I haven't seen Antonin for hours. He promised me I wouldn't have to come downstairs until midnight," she answered. "Unfortunately, Rabastan had other ideas. He dragged me out of my room and warded the door. I can't go back until three."

"Midnight, huh? Seems awfully late to make an entrance. I'll admit that the party has so far, been fairly boring, but that just seems rude. Especially for a house guest of the host."

The smirk on his face and the twinkle in his eye proved that Thorfinn was simply mocking her.

"I'm _not_ a guest. Antonin is the guest. I'm a hostage," she retorted to his continued amusement. "Antonin promised me that I wouldn't have to come downstairs until the party was beginning to wind down."

"I'm surprised he doesn't want to parade you around in your pretty green dress to make all of the other wizards jealous." He winked and Hermione snorted.

"Yes, well, he didn't want me to be forced to speak to anyone I hated. Too bad he couldn't save me from your company."

"You can't deny that you love every moment spent with me, Princess."

Hermione laughed again at the man. While she would never admit that she actually _enjoyed_ his presence, he had his moments when he could be amusing. She started sipping on her fourth glass of champagne of the evening. The first three glasses were enough that she was feeling pleasantly buzzed. A few more and she might be drunk enough to enjoy herself. Thorfinn stared down at her while he sipped his own glass. His eyes widened after a moment.

"Fuck! He's spotted us."

Hermione turned to look in the direction Thorfinn was scowling. Amycus Carrow had a grin on his face and was rushing towards them. A quick scan of the immediate area proved that there was nowhere to run. He would approach them before they had adequate chance to escape.

"Good evening, Thorfinn! Miss Granger!" he greeted. Thorfinn and Hermione both groaned and didn't respond. "Wonderful party, isn't it?"

"I guess, Amycus," Thorfinn replied, sipping from his wine glass again.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Granger?"

"Not really, Carrow. I'm at a party celebrating the day that my best friends were murdered and I was forced to go on the run," she snapped.

Thorfinn snorted into his glass. Amycus didn't even seem the least bit perturbed by her response. He was a strange wizard. Hermione couldn't stand him. She'd unfortunately had to spend at least four evenings in his presence since she moved in to the manor. Rabastan found him amusing for reasons no one else seemed to understand. Amycus ran his eyes up and down Hermione's frame in frank appreciation.

"Beautiful gown, Miss Granger."

"Thanks."

She hated the way he was staring at her but her mother taught her to be polite. Amycus brushed his fingertips down Hermione's bare arm. She shuddered at the contact. Moments later all three of their champagne glasses erupted in an explosion of tiny shards of glass. She felt the glass cut her face and neck in several places. A quick look at Thorfinn and Amycus showed they had similar injuries. It had been years since she had a burst of unintentional wandless magic. Part of her felt extremely embarrassed by the display and the other enjoyed seeing blood on Carrow's face.

"Oh, no! You have blood all over your pretty face, Miss Granger," Amycus exclaimed. He withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at several spots on her face that were bleeding.

Hermione shrugged him off. She would rather bleed to death than have that man touch her for a moment longer. Amycus removed his wand to make an attempt to heal some of the cuts on Thorfinn's face. The bumbling wizard instead accidentally poked one of Thorfinn's bleeding wounds with the end of his wand. How he managed to get away from Rowle's wrath without his wand snapping was a mystery to all involved. Thorfinn pushed Amycus away from him.

"Quit touching us!" Thorfinn demanded. "Go away, Carrow. I'll take care of this. Your assistance is not needed."

Hermione was grateful when the incompetent professor stumbled away from the angry wizard. Thorfinn watched to make certain that he left. When he was satisfied that Amycus was gone, he turned his attention back to Hermione. He removed his own handkerchief from his pocket with a concerned expression on his features. With more gentleness than Hermione could imagine he possessed, Thorfinn carefully cleaned the blood off of her face. His wand passed over her face and neck. Immediately she felt the skin heal itself and the pain disappeared.

"Thank you, Thorfinn."

"As good as new, Princess. No one will even suspect you blew up a glass in your own face."

He winked at her and she snorted again.

"What about you? Do you need someone to heal your face? I don't have a wand, but I'm sure we could get someone to help."

"It's all right," he assured her. "No need to get mine. Witches like scars. I'll tell them I got them in a fierce duel with a dangerous foe."

She giggled at his response. His injuries were relatively mild. There would likely be no scarring of any kind. They both laughed for a moment before an elf appeared out of nowhere with a tray of champagne. There were only two glasses. Thorfinn handed her one and took the other. Hermione was sure that the elves were keeping a close eye on all of the guests. Her accident must have been noticed by the staff.

"Excellent service," Thorfinn said as he took his first drink from the glass.

"Indeed."

Hermione took a sip of the champagne. She noticed while she was drinking a sudden almost overpowering collection of scents assaulted her olfactory senses. Sniffing the air around them, she began receiving odd looks from Thorfinn.

"You all right, Princess?"

"Do you smell that?" She sniffed the air again. Thorfinn took a hesitant sniff at her insistence. "Are you chewing spearmint gum?"

It was a strange enough question that Thorfinn actually laughed before shaking his head emphatically in the negative.

"I smell spearmint. It's really strong."

"I'm not sure what you're smelling, Hermione. I don't."

"And… this is weird. I smell parchment. Do you have letters in your pocket?"

Hermione stepped closer to the wizard and sniffed. He was amused by her actions and didn't even move.

"I also smell fresh cut grass."

"Uhh, Princess, we're standing outside. _Everyone_ smells fresh cut grass."

"Of course, you're right. It's just…"

She didn't know what her next comment was going to be. The smells were almost making her head hurt they were so concentrated.

"Do you smell anything strange?" she asked.

Thorfinn sniffed the air deeply at her request. An odd expression crossed his features too.

"I wouldn't say 'strange', but I smell honeysuckle. Pretty strongly too. Hmm, didn't notice that earlier. Oh, and now I'm smelling sticky toffee pudding. That's my favorite. My mum made the best when she was still alive. Do you think dessert is being served now?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"I'm going to go check. Are you going to be all right, Princess?"

Hermione lowered herself down on a nearby bench. She assured him that she would be fine before he wandered off looking for pudding. Men seemed to be all the same. Led by their stomachs. She could imagine Ron being distracted by the thought of pudding just the same. Thoughts of her friend made her increasingly melancholy. It had been a horrible night and she still had _hours_ before she would be allowed back into her room. She drained her glass once more, losing count finally of the number she'd imbibed. It didn't matter. She was done with the celebration of the worst day of her life. How any of the people wandering around the grounds could be in such a good mood was beyond her.

After several minutes she started to feel a bit flushed. A weird feeling began to move through her entire body. She hoped she wasn't getting ill again. Antonin and Rosie had both been insufferable when she was sick. She was certain she couldn't bear another episode of them worrying themselves about her and spending every waking moment checking on her. It was exhausting. Certainly not conducive to getting better.

She also wondered if maybe she'd simply had too much to drink too fast. _Screw Rabastan_ , she thought. She rose from the bench and headed towards the front door of the manor. The grounds were getting too crowded and she knew it would be easier to hide indoors. Thankfully the inside of the manor had fewer guests to avoid. As she passed the grand staircase she grabbed two full glasses of champagne off of another tray. She took gulps of the cold sparkling wine hoping that it would help. Her entire body felt like it was on fire.

It all became clear to her what she needed in that moment. She needed to find her wizard. She needed to find her wizard and she needed to find him _quickly_. Somehow she knew everything would be okay if she could just find him.

Her feet carried her down the hallway towards the library. There were guests everywhere, but no one seemed to be paying her much attention. _Thank Godric for small favors_. Several guests were congregated in Rabastan's study. She hated that room. Too much time had been spent in there after blasted dinner parties listening to Rabastan's guests. When she was only feet from the door to the study, she saw him. He was exiting the study.

Their eyes met. He gave her a small smile and she beamed back at him to his great pleasure. She moved quickly to close the space between them never breaking eye contact. He raised a single eyebrow when she pulled on his robes. Hermione ignored everyone else in the house. At the moment, there was no party in her world. She was alone with her wizard. He didn't seem to mind that she was pulling him down the hallway.

No one was in the library to her intense delight. Pushing the man inside the door, the witch closed the door behind her and turned the lock. He smirked. She placed both of her hands on the wizard's broad chest and pressed him against the nearest bookshelf. Ordinarily they had no difficulty conversing, but in that moment, neither of them knew words were needed. Hermione rose on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his.

Her wizard needed no further encouragement. He crushed her lips to his with a groan. Hermione's hands moved up his chest to encircle his neck. His hands roamed her body, never staying in the same place for longer than a moment or two. Their kissing was more heated than either of them anticipated. Whatever was coursing through Hermione to make her feel flushed was heightening all of her senses. She took the dominant role and her tongue explored his mouth much to his delight. He groaned into her mouth, pulling her body against him with both of his hands on her bum. She longed to wrap her legs around his waist, but didn't want to scare him off with her uncharacteristic boldness.

She wasn't sure what had gotten into her that evening. Normally she felt a little amorous when she had too much wine. This was something completely different. Neither of them was sure how much time passed with them simply snogging up against the bookshelf. The party might have been over for all they knew. Hours, days even might have passed. His hands moved up her sides to cup her breasts. The thin fabric of her dress left very little to the imagination when his fingers began to pluck her hardened nipples. She gasped at the sensation and knew that if she didn't do something drastic she was going to explode.

"What has gotten into you?" he whispered into her flesh as he licked and nipped up and down her exposed collarbone.

"Are you complaining?"

He chuckled against her neck causing her entire body to erupt into delicious goosebumps.

"Not at all."

Hermione placed both of her hands back on his thick chest. She used her strength to push the man back against the bookshelf. He seemed shocked by the sudden movement. He started to protest until he saw the expression in her darkened eyes. She ran her hands down his torso. He hissed when one made contact with the tent in his trousers. Hermione smiled at the groans that slipped from his mouth when she ran both of her hands up and down his bulging erection. The buttons on his trousers were difficult. She almost resorted to ripping them until with a bright smile on his face he reached down to undo them for her. The witch slipped a hand inside to grasp his hardened penis. He hissed at the contact which only spurred her on further.

Without a second thought, she dropped to her knees in front of the wizard. He stared down at her with the most eager face she'd ever seen. Their eyes met as she wrapped her lips around him. The wizard released an uncontrollable groan. She ran her wet tongue up and down his engorged shaft, smiling slightly each time he gasped at the sensations she was causing sucking and pulling him further and further into the warm recesses of her mouth. Her hands rested on his thighs, periodically reaching over to cup him as she sucked harder. After several minutes, he gently pushed her away.

"If you keep going, Hermione, I'm not going to be able to keep this up much longer."

She laughed and allowed him to help her back to her feet. Their lips found each other once more. After another fierce battle for dominance, Hermione pulled away.

"How long have you been fantasizing about what I just did to you against the bookshelf?" she asked.

"For far longer than I'm willing to admit."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. We can't stay down here. Anyone could walk in on us."

Hermione took her wizard by the hand. With his trousers still unbuttoned and open, he followed her up the narrow spiral staircase. They didn't stop until they were safely ensconced at the window seat on the third floor. She turned her back on him to stare out the window. He placed his large hands on her shoulders, slowly moving them down to the discreet zipper on the back of her garment. She granted him an encouraging smile over her shoulder. The wizard gradually lowered the zipper inch by inch. It seemed to take forever before the garment was loose enough to be pushed off of her body. The dress pooled on the floor at their feet. Immediately his mouth latched itself onto her bare shoulders. She gasped at the sharp nibbles he placed on her bare flesh.

"I need you _now_ ," she whispered.

He tapped his wand on her stomach. Immediately she felt a familiar swirling within her abdomen indicating the effectiveness of the contraceptive charm.

"I'm not ready to be a papa yet," he whispered with a laugh.

The wizard frantically pulled on his clothing to drop them in the same pile as Hermione's dress. She made a show of lowering her knickers to join the rest of their clothing. He watched every single motion she made with abated breath. When the small scrap of fabric hit the floor, it all became too much for the hot-blooded wizard. He lifted her up into his strong arms to push her small frame against a familiar bookshelf. She placed both of her hands on his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. He held her in place with a single arm and used the other hand to guide his swollen member into her tight, waiting passage.

They both gasped at the feel once he was safely sheathed inside of her body. For several moments they simply stared at each other while her body adjusted to the sheer size of him. Neither said a word, afraid to break the spell of the moment. The only sounds in the almost silent library were their heavy breaths.

"Move," she demanded.

He needed no further encouragement to begin a slow, steady pace of thrusting in and out of her body.

" _Fuck_! You feel amazing, witch. So fucking amazing."

She encouraged him to increase his pace. The wizard squeezed both of her bum cheeks as he slammed harder and harder into her. They both were moaning at the unbelievable sensations running through their bodies. Hermione felt even more flushed than she had earlier, but chose to ignore her concerns in the moment. Their frenetic pace meant that neither of them was going to last much longer. The feelings were too intense, too heightened to last. She squeezed her muscles tight around him making the man growl at the feeling. Her pleasure was building inside of her, a tight ball of desire just waiting to push her over the precipice. He pistoned in and out of her with such force that Hermione almost screamed. As she felt her body begin to come apart around him, she bit down into his shoulder. Only moments later he followed, erupting inside of her with a force she had never experienced.

They both collapsed to the floor, their legs unable to withstand any more weight. Hermione felt temporarily sated, but something within her knew that the feeling wouldn't last much longer. Already she could feel the heat running through her veins that she experienced downstairs. She rolled over to press her lips against the wizard's. Despite him still struggling to catch his breath, he gladly returned the kiss. He moved on to his side to get a better look at her when they broke apart again. His hand cupped her cheek and she smiled.

"I want to take you out of this manor," he whispered. "Take you somewhere where _he_ can't ever find you."

"Do you, really?"

She stared into his piercing blue eyes and kissed him again. This peck was simply a brush of her lips against his. Their breaths were slowly coming back under control after their intense exertions. Hermione ran her hand through his blonde hair and placed another kiss on his forehead.

"I'm serious, Princess."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

The party had been in full swing for only about twenty minutes when Antonin first wanted to exit. Even as he greeted important Ministry officials and made irritating small talk with the insipid wives of many of his fellow Death Eaters his mind kept wandering to the upstairs guest suite where he knew a gorgeous witch was waiting just for him. Not even half past eight and Antonin wanted to eschew propriety and disappear upstairs to spend the remainder of the damned party with Hermione. Listening to his witch pant beneath him and scream his name out was infinitely more pleasurable than listening to Penelope Yaxley and Isobel Mulciber discuss the cuts of their robes and the 'fine job' Madam Malkin did on them.

He was desperate to speak to Hermione about the events within the manor while he was on his forced trip. Twelve days could be an eternity when trapped within a large home with those who wished to harm her and only refrained from doing so because her protector was known throughout their ranks as a wizard that was not to be crossed. His temper and his penchant for slow, exacting revenge had been well-known since his days at Hogwarts. While fifteen years in Azkaban had certainly mellowed him out a bit, he was still not a wizard that anyone wanted for an enemy. Knowing that she had been so relieved to see him when he slipped beneath their bedcovers concerned him. Rabastan certainly had a reputation for enjoying the forbidden fruit and she'd already expressed her concern about him coming into their bedroom when she was alone in the bathroom, but he never expected the man to actually act upon his slimy, disgusting desires. He had too much respect for Antonin to do so. Or so he thought. He wanted to hear directly from Hermione what transpired in the days he was away. While he could delude himself and pretend that her bursting into tears at his appearance was simply because she desperately missed him in his absence, he was not a naïve man. She had obviously been afraid while he was gone. It was concerning to say the least.

"Where's your witch this evening?" teased Gary Goyle approximately five seconds after crossing through the gates with his wife on his arm. "Lose her already, Antonin?"

"She will be coming down later," Antonin replied.

He wished he didn't have to socialize with cretins like Gary. Unfortunately a rash decision when he was nineteen was still dictating his life almost thirty years later. He couldn't deny that some days he wished he'd heeded his mother's advice about finding an intelligent, warm-hearted witch and settling down right out of school. At eighteen years old he felt like he had all the time in the world to do what was respectable and responsible. After a failed arranged marriage contract with one of the Selwyn girls, his father pushed him instead towards the Dark Lord. Vadim Dolohov had been one of the Dark Lord's earliest supporters and wished his son to continue in his service. With few attractive alternatives available and the pain from a broken heart still smarting, he'd followed his father's wishes.

Antonin shook his head to clear out some of the thoughts suddenly plaguing him. This was not the time to start feeling remorseful and nostalgic. He turned to see Gregory Goyle standing just behind his father looking every bit as uncomfortable in his starched dress robes as Antonin. The older wizard felt some sympathy for the young man. Ignoring the boy's father, Antonin turned to Gregory and shook his hand. It was obvious that the young wizard was still a bit intimidated to be in Antonin's presence. He wasn't offended. It was a persona he'd spent the majority of his life working to improve.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Gregory?" he asked.

"Thank you, Mr. Dolohov. It's a nice party," the nervous boy replied.

"Greg's disappointed that his young witch couldn't attend," announced Gary. "He's been sulking since he received her owl."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Gregory. I can certainly understand the disappointment. Nothing serious, I hope?"

Gregory empathically shook his head 'no'.

"Astoria is still at Hogwarts," he explained. "She's in her sixth year. We were hoping that she would be allowed to leave the castle for the party, but she was unable to."

Sensing that Gregory would rather talk about just about anything else other than his young witch, Antonin changed the subject to his cottage. Before he'd left for Russia, he'd been certain to send a special portkey to Gregory to allow him to come to the cottage to begin work. Because the cottage was Unplottable and had a great number of advanced wards protecting the area from unwelcome visitors, Antonin as the new owner had to provide his new contractor with a way to access the cottage and still not give away its position. If he had been positive of Gregory's loyalties and whether or not he could be trusted, he could've simply given him the location. But because he was a Goyle and Antonin had never had cause to trust a Goyle, he was taking no chances. Young Gregory seemed perfectly at ease and thankful to be talking about the cottage.

"I was able to get the front door fixed, Mr. Dolohov," he explained. "It took some time. I had to completely tear it down and rebuild it back, but there shouldn't be any more problems. You may have to redo some of the wards on it when you next are there. I've almost finished fixing all of the problems with the roof."

"The roof was my largest concern. Did you find anything unexpected?"

"No, sir. Just a lot of neglect. I had to strip the roof completely just like the door. It was easier to fix the holes. When I'm finished, you shouldn't have to worry about leaks for at least the next sixty years."

"Well done, Gregory. I'm looking forward to seeing the progress. Hopefully, I can slip away some time tomorrow."

The young contractor assured his employer that he would be available at any time the next day to show off what he had been working on in his absence. Satisfied that the plan to move in to the cottage was still on track, Antonin wished the entire Goyle family a good evening before walking off to find the host.

Rabastan was easy to spot. He perched himself just on the inside of the main gates in order to greet all of his guests. Upon seeing his house guest arrive, he greeted Antonin with a big smile and a clap on the back.

"I was just upstairs visiting with Hermione," Rabastan said with a chuckle. "Dear girl was hiding upstairs with an excruciatingly dull book about goblins or ghouls or something equally boring."

"She was planning to come downstairs for the fireworks," Antonin explained. He wasn't pleased to hear that Rabastan had taken it upon himself to seek out his witch in the privacy of their bedroom.

"Yes, well, she was missing a fine party. I pulled her out into the corridor and warded your bedroom door."

Antonin felt his blood pressure begin to rise just a bit. His eyes narrowed in the direction of his purported friend. Rabastan simply laughed when he saw the expression on his face.

"Not to worry, Antonin. You will be able to enter your bedroom later if you so desire. The wards will expire at three. I couldn't have her missing all of the festivities."

 _At least she can hide away in the library if she desires…_

"And I told her she mustn't tuck herself into the library. I warned her that if I didn't see her out and about enjoying herself that I would attach her to my side with a permanent sticking charm."

"Was that really necessary, Rabastan? You know how uncomfortable she is about this entire night." He wanted to strangle the man.

"Yes, it was necessary. I wish to show her off to my guests. No doubt you wish to as well. She is absolutely _ravishing_ in that gown, my dear friend."

Antonin chose to ignore the implications behind the man's comment. He knew how Rabastan felt about Hermione. It was written all over the deviant's face. Lestrange was simply one of a myriad of reasons why he was anxious to get his witch out of the manor and into their own private cottage.

"Lucius and his goddaughter didn't arrive while I was inside, did they?" Rabastan asked, eagerly looking around in all directions at his assembled guests.

"I haven't seen them."

"Isla is the most delectable witch I have ever seen," he continued. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Before he could even answer in the negative, Rabastan continued his reverie.

"She is twice as beautiful as her mother was at her age. I can hardly believe that she exists."

"Sounds as if you're in love, Rabastan," Antonin said with a chuckle. He'd heard the man wax poetic about a thousand different birds. This one couldn't possibly by any different than all of the others.

"I very well could be, Antonin. I very well could be. Lucius never leaves us alone, the old pest. He seems awfully overprotective of the woman. Thorfinn thinks they're sleeping together, but I think that's preposterous!"

Antonin didn't want to agree with Thorfinn Rowle on _anything_. However, in this situation, he found he couldn't do anything but. He was an observant wizard. His skills of observation had kept him alive more times than he cared to remember. The night they gathered to drink wine at Lucius' manor Antonin definitely thought there was something more between Lucius and Miss Black than a simple godfather/goddaughter relationship. Lucius was extremely protective of the young woman.

"She promised she would be attending tonight," he continued. "I sent her the most beautiful gown to wear tonight."

"You actually sent her a dress?" Antonin asked. "Don't you think that is a little inappropriate?"

Rabastan didn't seem to think there was anything wrong in sending an expensive formal gown to a young woman he barely knew. Call him old-fashioned, but Antonin would _never_ present a witch with a gift so personal if there wasn't already some form of understanding between the two. It seemed extremely inappropriate.

"I've been considering contacting her mother," announced Rabastan.

"Why ever for?"

"Marriage, Antonin."

The older of the two men couldn't believe what he was hearing. Lestrange was never serious about women. He had multiple consorts floating around the country and he was one of the most frequent visitors to the Umbridge Home. At least one poor girl had already been impregnated with his child and Antonin was certain that she wasn't the only one forced to endure his attentions. Never once in all of the many years that he had known Rabastan had he ever heard the man contemplate marriage.

"I plan on renewing my acquaintance with her mother and hopefully, we can come to some sort of an agreement."

Before Antonin could provide his own opinion (not that Rabastan was interested in the slightest) the host of the massive party was distracted by the arrival of the Minister for Magic. Forced back into his host duties, he wandered away from his friend without another word. Antonin certainly didn't mind the respite from Rabastan's constant yammering. The man could be exhausting. He stood there silently sipping from his glass of excellent champagne and surveying the large crowd.

"Good evening, Antonin."

He wanted to find some large hole to crawl into and remain for the rest of the evening. Despite having the best sleep he'd had in almost two weeks, Antonin was entirely too exhausted to deal with the antics of one obviously tipsy Alecto Carrow. Determined to be polite, however, he granted her a half-smile and curt nod in her direction. The blasted woman actually had the nerve to blush at his attention! She was entirely too old and too… well, too… too _Carrow_ for that kind of behavior. She wasn't a school girl with a damned crush on an upperclassman even though she acted like it every time she was in his presence.

"Good evening, Alecto," he replied, his jaw tense and his tone cool. "Are you enjoying the party?"

"Yes, thank you, I am."

She moved close enough to Antonin that he could smell the sickly sweet gardenia perfume she'd practically bathed in. It was strong enough that he almost sneezed all over her puce robes. They were of a too-tight fit that did nothing to accentuate the positive parts of her body. Antonin felt a little disgusted with himself for examining the woman, but he was a man…. And she was trying to put a bit more on display than a woman with her full figure really should. No doubt Walden Macnair would be more than willing to pull her behind a tall hedge. He, however, was _not_ interested.

"You look quite dashing in your dress robes this evening, Antonin," she said, a prominent blush back on her cheeks. He wondered if she'd been tippling a bit too much already that night. She was a witch who enjoyed her alcohol.

"Thank you, Alecto," he replied. The advice from his mother about the importance of always being polite and always complimenting a lady rang through his head. While he certainly had his opinions on the matter of whether or not Alecto Carrow could actually be considered a _lady_ , even with his mother being dead for many, many years he couldn't ignore the wise woman. "You look lovely as well."

It almost physically pained him to utter the words. The moment they escaped from his mouth the woman began to blush once more, proving alcohol wasn't solely to blame for her reddened cheeks. He longed to disappear.

"Why are you standing here all alone?" she asked. "Where is your Mud… _Miss Granger_?"

"She is around here somewhere," he answered.

Lucius and his attractive goddaughter chose that moment to enter the grounds. Antonin had never been more thankful to see the damn Malfoy man as he was at that moment.

"If you will excuse me, Alecto, I must act in Rabastan's stead and greet his guests."

Carrow tried to sputter out a request that he remain, but Antonin was yards away from her before she could even open her mouth. He crossed the distance to the newest arrivals. Lucius, as always, was perfectly coiffed and dressed in an elaborate set of black dress robes that probably cost more than Antonin spent on his entire cottage. Miss Black clung to Lucius' arm with a grip that whitened her knuckles. She was apparently as disinterested in attending the party as Antonin himself was.

"Good evening, Lucius, Miss Black," he greeted.

Lucius gave him a perfunctory bow in his direction. Miss Black greeted him with a hesitant but warm smile. If she was indeed wearing the dress that Rabastan sent, her attire was enough to prove that the wizard had excellent taste. She looked positively radiant in the deep purple gown. Diamonds dripped from her neck and wrist, no doubt additions from the man rapidly losing circulation in his arm.

"Good evening, Mr. Dolohov," she replied. Miss Black made a quick sweep of the area with her eyes before allowing them to land back on Antonin's face. "Is Miss Granger not with you this evening?"

"She is here, but she came down to the party later than I did. Our paths have simply not crossed yet."

"You have not misplaced her already, have you, Antonin?" Lucius inquired with an amused sneer. Antonin was very weary of the same question. No less than five different people had asked him whether or not he'd lost his witch that night. It was growing tiresome.

"Of course not, Lucius," he spat. "I simply assumed that she might not want to socialize with some of the very same people she fought against in a battle a year ago. This is a party to mark the anniversary of the day that her life was irrevocably changed. If she and I had a choice, she would not be forced to come at all."

Lucius seemed suitably chastised. Miss Black smiled warmly at Antonin when he finished his quietly hissed tirade. She seemed to appreciate the protectiveness he was displaying towards his witch. Antonin didn't miss the soothing way she rubbed Lucius' arm when the man narrowed his steely grey eyes in his direction. Thorfinn was right. If they weren't sleeping together yet, they would be soon.

"I'm going to find some water so I can take my… well, you know," Miss Black whispered to Lucius, though not quietly enough that Antonin couldn't hear. In order to be polite, however, he behaved as if he didn't understand a word and briefly turned away from the couple. "I will be just a minute. Will you be all right?"

"Yes, my dear," Lucius assured the woman in a lower tone. Antonin had to almost strain his ears to hear his response. "I will be all right. Please hurry back."

Lucius covered the hand still grasping his arm with his free hand. The two exchanged a silent look before he squeezed her hand and Miss Black wandered off towards the refreshments table. Malfoy watched the woman walk away with an expression that Antonin knew all too well.

"She seems like a lovely girl, Lucius."

Antonin's response seemed to surprise the other wizard. Lucius tilted his head a bit and stared at Antonin before responding.

"She is, Antonin."

"And you care a great deal for her."

"Of course I do. She is my goddaughter."

Lucius' tone grew very defensive. Antonin couldn't help but smirk. Yeah, the blonde had it _bad_.

"If that is what you have to tell yourself to sleep at night, Lucius, fine, but you aren't fooling anyone but yourself."

Any further responses Lucius might have wanted to make were cut short by Miss Black's return. She was grimacing slightly as if she had a nasty taste in her mouth. When she resumed her place by Lucius' side, she gulped an entire glass of champagne much to Antonin's amusement. She certainly wasn't the only one who wanted to spend the rest of the evening numb to their surroundings.

"I hope to see Miss Granger before the evening is over," Miss Black said when the awkward silence between the three grew too awkward.

"Yes, so do I. Draco was asking about her just the other day, Antonin. He wanted to make certain that you were still taking excellent care of his former classmate," responded Lucius.

"Hermione is just…"

He was interrupted by the exuberant reemergence of Rabastan. Somehow the man had been able to drop off the Minister for Magic somewhere else and had hurried back to the front gates. When he saw the radiant Miss Black standing with Lucius and Antonin, he all but pushed the other two men out of the way to approach the young woman. Her earlier confidence was quickly squashed the moment Rabastan kissed her cheeks and began a barrage of compliments about her appearance. The poor woman appeared as if she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Antonin couldn't help but be amused by the intense annoyance splashed across Lucius' entire countenance. Just about anything that made Lucius upset was all right by him. If he hadn't had a soft spot for Lucius' goddaughter for whatever reason he couldn't explain, Antonin would've been pleased to let the man continue to be made upset. He understood being intensely shy as the poor woman obviously was. His first few years at Hogwarts had been difficult for that very reason. While he no longer felt the same anxiety in social situations, he could still sympathize with someone who did.

"Lucius, why don't you show Miss Black around the formal gardens," he suggested. "The hedge maze is one of the largest in the country. It's not to be missed."

His cheeks threatened to flare up with unbidden thoughts about the last time he visited the hedge maze. More than once during his trip to Russia he'd been forced to recall the most delicious moments of that evening to aid him in finding some sort of tension release in the stress of the mission. He was looking forward to the fulfilment of Hermione's promise. If all went the way he planned, they wouldn't even be getting out of bed until that same time the next day.

"Yes, please, Lucius." The woman was very eager to go anywhere. If Antonin had suggested that Lucius take her on a tour of the musty, abandoned, rat-infested horse stables on the other side of the estate, he felt certain that Miss Black would be willing.

Rabastan pouted when the two walked away from him towards the formal gardens. He was stuck in the same place for a little bit longer in his role as host. Guests were still arriving and it was his duty to make certain that they were greeted properly. Not for the first time Antonin was certain that Rabastan missed his older brother. Maybe not for sentimental or Rowena forbid, _love_ , but simply because the responsibilities of being the Head of the Lestrange Family meant that he was unable to carouse with his guests as he would have liked.

"You're trying too hard, Rabastan," Antonin said the moment the two were out of earshot.

"I don't understand what you mean," he sniffed.

"She may not be sleeping with Lucius, but I can tell that she cares for him."

"Of course she cares for him, Antonin! He's her godfather."

"That's not what I meant and you know it. I wouldn't recommend approaching Eleanor for a marriage contract. Find someone else. There are dozens of suitable pureblood witches out there who would be more than willing to marry the Lestrange heir."

Rabastan's pout grew more prominent. Antonin simply rolled his eyes. The man could be positively childish when the mood struck him. He might claim that his mother indulged his older brother too much, but Antonin was certain that his father and grandfather likely indulged _him_ too much as well. He was used to getting what he wanted, damn the consequences. Knowing Lucius as he did, Antonin was certain that he wasn't about to give up the beautiful woman on his arm without a fight.

"I'm going to find Hermione."

His friend didn't even try to stop him from leaving. Obviously his words had more of an effect than Rabastan cared to admit. Lestrange allowed Antonin to begin walking towards the area of the formal gardens. It was as good a place to start as any. Fewer guests were milling around the hedge maze and topiary garden. He assumed that she would want to be around as few people as possible.

"Mr. Dolohov, may I have a word?"

Antonin was stopped in his forward progress by a short, squatty woman in the most hideous floral robes he'd ever seen. The middle-aged woman even had the ridiculous idea to add a pink bow to her hair. _Is she aware that she is no longer five years old?_ He couldn't recall a time where he ever spoke to Dolores Umbridge, but of course, he knew exactly who she was. Everyone knew who she was. She was one of those Ministry officials who used the influence of the Death Eaters to get what she wanted accomplished without ever swearing fealty to the Dark Lord. He couldn't stand the power hungry that refused to get their hands dirty.

"While I hardly doubt you are going to stop at a single word, Madam, I am listening," he retorted, not bothering to hide his annoyance. Thoughts of the bitch standing before him being the one who subjected _his_ witch to the Cruciatus Curse while she was in Ministry custody were swirling through his head. He could feel his wand hand itch.

"I just saw Hermione Granger at this party," she spat, pausing for some sort of reaction from the man that towered above her by over a foot and a half.

"Yes, she lives in the manor. She was invited as a personal guest of Rabastan Lestrange himself."

Umbridge sputtered in indignation. Antonin rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. _If she doesn't get to the point quickly..._

"Hermione Granger is a dangerous criminal! She does not deserve to be free from Azkaban and able to wander around freely with honest, upstanding citizens!"

Her voice was almost a shout. They were garnering stares from some of the other guests. Antonin grasped the irate witch's upper arm and squeezed. Ignoring the stares, he dropped his voice low enough so that only she could hear him. Each word was hissed out through his clenched teeth.

"Hermione is _none_ of your concern, Umbridge. As a _personal_ favor to the Dark Lord, she is under my protection. I suggest that you cease your ramblings and leave me alone. If you see Hermione, you are not to curse her, touch her or even speak to her. Otherwise, you will have me to answer to."

Her eyes widened at the personal threat from the dangerous Death Eater. She had been a court clerk for the Wizengamot when he was brought to trial at the end of the First Wizarding War. She knew _exactly_ what he was capable of.

"Do I make myself clear, Madam Umbridge?"

She was unable to form a coherent response to his question. Simply nodded her head.

"Excellent." His tone rose to a normal level. "Please enjoy the rest of the party. Have a good evening."

He didn't have to turn around to know that the woman watched him walk away from her with her wide, unblinking eyes staring into the back of his skull. He knew the effect he had on the weak. By now his reputation was enough that he didn't have to throw around threats, or in Dolores Umbridge's case, _promises_ , but every now and then he had to reassert his dominance over the vast majority of the population. He was not a man to be trifled with. Umbridge would be smart to remember that fact.

Several guests stopped him as he attempted to make his way towards the gardens. Many of his associates wished to ask him about the top secret mission he'd been on that naturally everyone knew about. He had to brush off many impertinent questions from those that simply did not have the necessary clearance to hear the answers. The Dark Lord had informed him early on that this was a mission that only those that needed to know should be informed of. Very few actually fit those criteria. Other guests were old schoolmates who were keen to impress their spouses or dates with the knowledge that they used to share a common room with the notorious murderer. He politely smiled and nodded at the uninteresting specimens before escaping completely.

He found Lucius and Miss Black standing just outside of the hedge maze. Rabastan was ignoring Lucius completely to focus all of his attention on the young woman. She kept looking back at Lucius for reassurance and the blonde appeared as if he were only moments away from exploding. His reappearance offered the necessary distraction the two guests were looking for.

"Back so soon, Antonin?" asked Rabastan, oblivious to the relief on both Lucius' and Miss Black's faces. "Were you able to find Hermione?"

"Unfortunately, no," he replied. A house elf appeared with a tray of champagne and he gladly took another glass. "Kept getting stopped. Even that horrible Umbridge woman accosted me."

"You poor thing," responded Lucius with what appeared to be a genuine expression of sympathy on his face. "She is dreadful. Isla and I caught a glimpse of Hermione over there with Thorfinn and Amycus…"

Antonin turned to start heading in the direction Lucius was pointing.

"But then all three dispersed and went in different directions," Lucius continued. "I am not sure where Miss Granger headed after that. Towards the house, I believe."

Antonin pulled his father's battered, old watch from his inside pocket. It was already after eleven. According to Rabastan she'd already been forced to endure at least two hours of the damn party. He wouldn't be surprised if she headed into the manor to hide in the kitchen with Argos or to hopefully slip unnoticed into the library. He was about to extend his excuses for leaving to the assembled group once more, but was stopped by the sudden appearance of a small hand touching his shoulder. A smile crossed his face and he turned around...

 _Fuck_. The smile immediately fell off his face when he realized that the hand still resting on his shoulder did _not_ belong to Hermione. He shrugged his shoulder hard enough to knock her hand off.

"What, Alecto?!"

The witch didn't seem bothered by his abrupt response. No doubt she'd been on the receiving end of his sour moods many times since she decided that for whatever reason that Merlin only knew, _he_ was the wizard she wanted. She did not know how to take a hint, subtle or direct.

"Amycus just saw your little _witch_ ," she announced, a small smirk on her lips. "He said that he saw her slip into the library a little while ago. Maybe an hour ago."

He took a single step into the direction towards the house, but was stopped by Alecto's hand once more.

"She wasn't alone, Antonin."

"What are you on about, Alecto?"

"Amycus thought it was interesting that she entered the library with Thorfinn."

Antonin could feel the tension in his head begin again. The woman was going to cause his head to implode with frustration. He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no way he was going to believe that there was anything untoward going on between Hermione and Thorfinn Rowle, of all people. The very idea was ludicrous. How many times had she admitted to hating the man?

"My brother thought it was odd and wanted to make sure she was all right."

 _Bullshit_.

"He tried to push open the door to the library, but they locked it behind them. Why do you think they would be alone in a locked library, Antonin?"

"I'm sure your idiot brother misunderstood the situation."

"How could you possibly _misunderstand_ a witch and a wizard who were obviously drunk locking themselves up in a room? Amycus said that she practically dragged Thorfinn down the hallway by his robes."

The others were politely trying to pretend that they weren't listening in to the conversation. Lucius and Rabastan were making an effort to not even look in their direction. Miss Black, on the other hand, was unable to hide the fact that her eyes kept returning to the two having a heated conversation. Antonin was beyond annoyed. If it would get Alecto to leave him in peace, he was willing to follow her to the library to find out what was really happening.

"Fine! I'll follow you," he agreed.

Rabastan, Lucius and Miss Black didn't even wait for an invitation to follow. All three of them dropped their empty champagne flutes on a nearby table and shadowed Alecto and Antonin's movements. Antonin didn't care. If anything it might be helpful to have extra witnesses for the moment when he finally lost his composure and murdered the bitch. When they reached the entrance hall, Amycus fell in line behind his sister. Antonin ignored the gleeful expression the wizard had plastered across his face.

No one impeded their progress down the hallway towards the library. Antonin must not have had a friendly, approachable countenance. The guests seemed to literally part around their entourage. He was the first one to reach the door to the library. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves lest he murder the bitch before he even entered the room, Antonin attempted to push the door open. It stuck. Cursing under his breath, he attempted an _alohomora_ spell, but the door did not budge. The Carrows were smirking at each other out of the corner of his eye. In a movement that was eerily similar to the day that Hermione was brought into the manor and locked in the bathroom by the bossy elf, Antonin blasted the door open.

All six entered the silent library without making a single noise. It was almost as if they were all holding their breaths. Antonin surveyed the bottom level of the library but didn't see anyone or anything out of the ordinary. A quick glance at the Carrows showed that they were both whispering to each other with concerned expressions on their unattractive faces. He was prepared to storm back out of the library after cursing both of them. He rotated his body around to face back towards the door. One step towards the door…

If everyone in the room hadn't been completely silent, they would've missed the soft sounds of moaning coming from above their heads. All six lifted their eyes towards the third level. The sound began to grow a little bit louder, but whoever was up in the highest level of the library was too far away to hear clearly. Antonin felt his stomach clench when a high keening that sounded entirely too familiar reached their ears.

"Fuck, Princess. You are so tight. You feel amazing."

The words were barely discernable from their position in the front of the library on the lowest level, but as the voice traveled down to their ears, all of the new arrivals began to stare at each other in shock. Antonin noticed Miss Black clutch Lucius' arm tightly the moment the voice was audible.

" _Oh_ , yes, Thorfinn. Fuck, yes!"

Antonin didn't hesitate when the familiar voice assaulted his ears. He _knew_ it was her. What the fuck was going on? With his heartbeat pounding in his ears and his body positively vibrating with rage, he rushed to the narrow spiral staircase. He could feel movement behind him as he ran. Two steps at a time and it was only moments before he was approaching the third level.

" _Ascendio!"_

He ignored the shout of the spell from the feminine voice and barely registered the flash of purple that flew past in his peripheral vision. The sounds of frantic lovemaking grew louder with each step he took. With it his rage grew with exponential leaps. He wasn't sure when he started grasping his wand so hard that it was digging into the flesh of his palm.

The last few yards until the hidden window seat felt miles long. Antonin picked up his pace when he reached the top of the staircase. Miss Black was climbing over the railing of the third floor landing. She ran ahead of him, reaching the source of the sounds before anyone. He would've been annoyed with her if he had a moment to spare her a thought.

There was no way that he could deny what he was seeing. Hermione was lying naked on top of what appeared to be every stitch of clothing she and Rowle removed. Rowle was lying on top of _his_ witch, grunting and thrusting into _his_ witch. Antonin had his wand raised in the air before his mind registered the movement. He was shouting in Russian, purple flames shooting from the end of his wand aimed directly at Thorfinn's pale white arse.

His most powerful spell, the spell he'd used on countless enemies, bounced harmlessly off of a massive shield. Temporarily stunned by the failure of his deadly spell, he noticed the slight witch standing a few feet from him holding up one of the strongest shields he'd ever seen with her wand. All of her concentration was forced on her spell; perspiration was dripping down from her hair. _How did she get up here so fast?_

Shouts from multiple wizards behind him sent his wand flying backwards out of his hand. He only thought his rage was as high as it could go when he saw the couple fucking on the floor, but it was _nothing_ compared to what he was feeling when he saw his wand clutched in Rabastan's hand. Both he and Lucius had their wands pointed in his direction, ready to curse him if needed.

The couple writhing near the window seat became aware that they weren't alone the moment that Antonin began screaming his spell. Thorfinn was on his feet with Hermione pushed safely behind his large frame. Somehow he managed to summon his wand in the mere seconds it took to jump to his feet and pull the witch to safety. He stood, completely naked, in a fighting stance with his wand extended ready to protect himself and the witch.

"Darling, it is all right," Lucius whispered to Miss Black. He placed his hand on her extended wand arm. "You can lower the shield."

Miss Black dropped the shield. Her strength wavered enough that her knees threatened to give out. Lucius grasped her beneath her arms before she fell to the ground. When she was safely back on her feet, she waved her wand in Thorfinn and Hermione's direction. Instantly their rumpled clothing flew back onto their bodies to cover their nakedness.

Once his wand was out of his hand, Antonin couldn't move. He tried moving towards Thorfinn's direction. If he couldn't curse him to death, he could certainly use his fists to bring about the bastard's painful death. Obviously someone placed him in a full body bind. That was probably all that was keeping the blonde monster alive.

"Antonin, what are you doing here?" Hermione demanded as she peeked out from behind her massive protector.

His mouth wasn't frozen. He could still scream at the traitorous bitch and her paramour.

"What am _I_ doing here, Hermione?!" he yelled. "What the _fuck_ are you doing here with _him_? Is this what you were busy doing when I was gone? Is this why Rowle is always sniffing around you?"

"Now, Antonin, that's enough," Thorfinn spat back. "Hermione has done nothing wrong."

"'Nothing wrong?!' We just found you both fucking! How long has this been going on?"

He wanted to rip Thorfinn limb from limb… and maybe do the same to Hermione. How could she do this to him? How could she snog him in bed that very morning and promise that they would finally, _finally_ finish what they had been dancing around for months and then sneak off in the middle of the biggest party he'd ever been to to shag the idiot behind his back? It was almost as if the last four months never happened and the woman was a complete stranger.

"Tonight was the first time," Hermione admitted in a whisper. She couldn't meet Antonin's eyes as she made her confession. "I'm sorry, Antonin. I never meant to hurt you. This all happened so fast."

"What is this, Hermione?" He ignored all of the other pairs of eyes focused on him and just focused on her as if she was the only one in the room.

"I'm not sure how to explain it, Antonin, but I love him. I'm not sure how I haven't realized it before, but I do."

"You don't _love_ him! You _hate_ him! How many times have you told me in the privacy of our bedroom that you couldn't stand him and wished he would stop dropping by the manor?"

Thorfinn turned around to stare at the young woman at those words. Her cheeks flushed red at the attention.

"I've been telling you all of this for months now, Antonin," Alecto said with an exultant grin on her face. She was loving every moment of the drama unfolding in front of her.

"Fuck you, Alecto!" he screamed, wiping the smile off her face with only his words.

Lucius moved swiftly to stand between the suddenly angry witch and the still-bound Antonin.

"Let us all think about this rationally, Antonin," he suggested. "Miss Granger has never seemed to care much for Thorfinn and then all of a sudden she is proclaiming that she loves him and begins… uhh, _acting_ upon those feelings.'

"Is there a point to your ramblings, Lucius?" he demanded.

"I wonder if our Miss Granger and Thorfinn are not perhaps under the influence of a rather powerful love potion."

Alecto began to sputter and turn red. Amycus stared at his feet and his ears changed to the same shade.

"That's preposterous!" stammered Alecto. "They've been going behind your back for months, Antonin. You know it's true. A love potion? That's insane."

"No, it makes sense," retorted Miss Black. "Look at their skin. See how flushed they are?"

She walked over to the couple and placed a hand on each of their cheeks.

"They are both burning up." She checked their pulse points on their necks. "And their hearts are racing. Their eyes are fully dilated. Forgive me, but it looks like all of the classic signs of a powerful lust potion."

Rabastan placed an arm on Alecto's shoulder when she attempted to exit the small space. The witch was angry at the gesture and only grew angrier when the owner of the manor began rummaging through the pockets of her robe. It only took a few moments to retrieve two almost empty potion vials.

"Give those back!" she screamed.

Rabastan ignored the woman and Lucius flicked his wand to freeze her. For good measure, he did the same to her brother. Unlike with Antonin, neither of the Carrows were free to speak. The wizard opened one of the vials and took a deep sniff. He handed it around to both Lucius and Miss Black before running it under Antonin's nose.

"My dear, you are absolutely correct," Rabastan said. "This is undoubtedly a lust potion."

He sniffed the second vial. His eyes closed as he appeared to enjoy the scent.

"Ahh, yes. I smell lilacs, bourbon and peppermint," he announced. "What do you smell, Antonin?"

He was slowly regaining his composure. When he recognized the scents he'd always smelled when faced with Amortentia, he sighed.

"Chocolate, lavender and ink."

Rabastan waved the vial underneath Thorfinn and Hermione's noses as well.

"Spearmint, new parchment and fresh cut grass," Hermione whispered.

"I smell honeysuckle, sticky toffee pudding and woodsmoke," admitted Thorfinn.

"So you think that I don't really love Thorfinn? That this was Amortentia?"

"And laced with a strong lust potion," agreed Rabastan.

The group fell silent for several moments. All were putting the pieces together.

"Miss Granger, did anything strange happen to you when you were downstairs?" Lucius asked. "Did you leave your drink unattended at any point?"

Realization began to dawn on both of the victims. Thorfinn and Hermione turned to stare at the frozen form of Amycus Carrow. If his eyes could have widened in fear, they would have.

"Fucking bastard!" Thorfinn screamed, rushing towards the wizard. He was stopped by both Rabastan and Lucius. "He blew up champagne glasses in our faces. Wiped some of Hermione's blood off with his handkerchief and then he must've gotten some of my blood on the end of his wand when he attempted to heal one of my cuts. I thought he disappeared too easily. A couple of champagne glasses appeared a minute or so later."

"I started feeling a bit strange after that," admitted Hermione. "But I don't understand how that would make my feelings for Thorfinn not valid. I love him."

"Hermione, dear, you were drugged," Miss Black assured the younger witch. She placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You're not in love with Mr. Rowle."

Antonin was livid. He could not believe what happened underneath his nose. Where was he when all of this was happening? Why did he have to tell Hermione that she didn't have to stay by his side? This was all his fault. If he hadn't been trying to protect her from the other guests she wouldn't have been drugged by Amycus fucking Carrow!

"Rabastan, would you be kind enough to unbind me and return my wand to me?" he asked, attempting to keep his voice as calm as possible.

His friend seemed to think about his request for a moment before finally complying. Antonin felt the feeling returned to his limbs. He ripped the wand out of his Rabastan's hand. Thorfinn seemed ready to defend himself if necessary, but the irate wizard wasn't concerned about the massive blonde. He pointed his wand directly at the bitch that didn't seem to understand that he would _never_ crawl between her thighs.

Alecto threw herself at his feet when he released the spell keeping her frozen. Tears were streaming down her face and she seemed to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Antonin was not moved by her cries. He pointed his wand at the bitch and meaning it more than he ever had before, screamed.

" _Crucio_!"


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

The shrieks of the tortured woman filled the otherwise silent library. Alecto lay huddled on the floor at Antonin's feet somewhat bravely enduring the pain of the curse from her once-desired wizard obsession. Even a woman as monumentally fucked in the head as Alecto Carrow couldn't possibly still want the man standing above her and pointing a wand at her with the most frighteningly intense dark brown eyes. _Even she couldn't be that mad_ , thought Hermione.

No one in the room was making a move to stop the cruel inhumanity displayed before them. Only Lucius' goddaughter seemed the least bit fazed in Hermione's observation. It made her stomach churn to realize that with the exception of Miss Black and herself, every other person assembled in the room had at some point in their life had their arms marked and been witness to a similar spectacle. Each of them had been subjected to the unimaginable pain of the illegal curse and had without a doubt, performed it on others multiple times. It was one of those moments that brought Hermione crashing back to the startling reality of the world she now lived in and the terrifying, dangerous individuals who also inhabited it.

Herimone knew exactly what it felt like to writhe on the floor in agony because of the blasted Cruciatus Curse. Twice in her life she had been placed under its damaging influence. She knew that she would always reimagine those moments in nightmares that snuck up on her when she least expected them. Alecto Carrow was a despicable human being who delighted in the torture of innocent children in her case as a Hogwarts professor. She reveled in bloodshed and concocted an elaborate plan to injure Hermione. Despite all of that and despite all of the crimes she'd committed that Hermione knew nothing about and wished to know nothing about, she still pitied the woman.

Who amongst them had never suffered under the anguish and humiliation of unrequited love? Alecto might be a harsh, sadistic woman, but she was still a woman. Her plan to rip Antonin away from Hermione almost resulted in an innocent (if one could ever call Thorfinn Rowle innocent) death at his enraged hands. Hermione certainly could not condone her methods, but the sisterhood of womanhood could allow for the tiniest amount of sympathy to leak through. Everyone desired to be loved. Alecto simply fucked up in her plans to achieve her wishes.

Alecto's screams were reduced to whimpers. Reminders of the night she spent sprawled on the floor of the drawing room at Malfoy Manor were ever-present in Hermione's mind. She knew madness would be upon the woman if Antonin didn't stop soon. Even Alecto deserved a better fate than that. Hermione grasped the robes of the wizard she was still standing behind. She buried her eyes in the fabric and barely registered the moment when her beloved reached behind to pull her into a secure embrace. She allowed his arms to pull her shaking frame against his broad chest.

"Get your hands off of her!" Antonin shouted, temporarily forgetting about the witch at his feet.

Hermione felt a hand that had never been placed on her body in anger grip her arm. A brief scuffle of physical strength only resulted in Antonin being shoved hard enough by Thorfinn that he landed on his arse next to the crying woman on the floor. Hermione silently sobbed into Thorfinn's rumpled robes as he enveloped her completely in his massive arms. Her wizard whispered soothing words into her hair to calm her down.

"Hermione…" Antonin's voice was low and dangerous. He still sat on the hardwood floor. "Hermione, get away from him. He's not safe."

Thorfinn carefully, yet swiftly pushed Hermione back behind his hulking figure in a gesture of security. His already flushed face grew redder as the moments wore on. He held his wand in front of his face, ready to protect the woman he believed he was in love with from the wizard claiming her as his.

"Don't. You. _Dare_ ," warned Thorfinn, his words clipped and harsh. "Don't you _dare_ say that the witch I love is not safe with me."

Antonin snorted derisively. His dark brown eyes rolled and a rough laugh left his mouth.

"You don't _love_ her, Rowle. You don't even know her!" he spat. " _I_ am her protector."

"Yes, and what a wonderful job you have been doing as her ' _protector'_ , Dolohov! Look what happened to her tonight!"

Even Alecto stopped making sounds from her spot on the floor. Every pair of eyes in the room focused on the two wizards. No one could argue with Thorfinn, not even Antonin. He'd failed the woman he was sworn to protect. There was simply no way to deny that fact.

"You left her alone at a party filled with her enemies, Antonin," Thorfinn continued. "If it wasn't the Carrows doing something to her, it could've been Umbridge or any number of others. She is not safe here!"

"I take offense to that remark. This is my home. She is safe here," Rabastan butted in.

"No, Rabastan, she's not," argued Rowle. "She is most definitely not safe here. Do you know what almost happened to her when you were off in Russia or wherever the fuck the Dark Lord sent you?"

Antonin dropped his eyes to the floor. Carefully he pushed himself off of the floor to give him an excuse not to respond to the question. He'd been worried about her safety in the manor while he was gone. It was part of the reason why he had been so stressed out on his trip. His thoughts were never far from Hermione.

"Did you know that I overheard Walden make a remark one night at Hogwarts after you left that he was going to make a surprise visit to the manor in your absence?"

Hermione gulped. She remembered the night Thorfinn was describing. If he hadn't shown up at the right moment…

"He was bragging to anyone who would listen that he was going to 'sample' your witch while you were gone, Antonin. I made it a point to be here _every single_ night you were gone. The one night I was called away and couldn't get here early in the evening, I walked into the front entrance to find Walden had grabbed hold of her arm on the stairs. He had that look in his eyes that we've all seen before…"

Hermione peered around Thorfinn's back to scan the faces of the listeners. Antonin looked as if he was going to be sick. An expression of guilt was plastered over his handsome features and he couldn't look anyone in the eye. Amycus was still frozen and Alecto was actually smirking. Rabastan had narrowed eyes and appeared ready to duel someone to the death. Lucius had his arm around Miss Black protectively while tears streamed down her cheeks. Her face was paler than usual and she too, looked as if she was going to be sick. Not wanting to see anything more, Hermione hid her face back in Thorfinn's robes.

"If I hadn't gotten here just in time," Thorfinn said, his voice cracking slightly. "It would've been too late. I can't bear the thought of another person I love and that fucking animal…"

Silence fell over the room as Thorfinn attempted to compose himself. Hermione didn't understand the history that her wizard obviously had with the former executioner. Whatever it was, it must've been horrible. She could feel her own tears roll down her cheeks.

"My point, Antonin, is that you can't protect her."

Antonin started to argue with the man, but stopped. While he was trying to comprise some kind of response, the witch lying on the floor pointed her wand at her still-bound brother. A quick _finite_ and moments later Amycus reanimated with a fury that shocked everyone. Thankfully, the Death Eaters in the room had practice with honing their reflexes. They all united against the Carrows. Lucius had Alecto hexed and back on the floor in moments. Rabastan, Thorfinn and Antonin disarmed the brother with little effort.

"Do you deny your involvement in your sister's plan?" Antonin calmly asked the wizard, twirling his stolen wand between his fingers.

Amycus literally spat in Antonin's direction. Incensed by such a blatant sign of disrespect from a worm like Carrow, Antonin sent a moderate stinging hex to Amycus' gut before snapping his wand in two. The wizard doubled over in pain the moment the hex struck him. When he realized what Antonin did with his wand, he attempted to rise from his feet and attack. Antonin was a more powerful wizard without even trying. Carrow was back on the floor with the tiniest flick of Antonin's wrist.

"It was all my idea!" shouted Alecto, desperate to protect the brother she loved from any further harm.

"Be quiet, Allie!" Amycus hissed.

"I told him what to do. I got all of the potions ready. I was the one that blew up their glasses," she confessed, sloppy, fat tears rolling down her pudgy cheeks. "I used a siphoning spell on his handkerchief to collect the Mudblood's filthy blood and mix it in Thorfinn's drink. Then I took the blood from the end of Amy's wand and mixed it in the Mudblood's drink. I was the one who Imperio'd the house elf to deliver the spiked glasses. I was the one who Imperio'd Thorfinn to hand _her_ the right glass. It was all my plan."

"Stop, Allie!" her brother yelled once more. "They don't need to know all of the details. _I_ was the one telling her what to do. I made the plans. If someone needs to pay for this evening, then please, leave my sister be."

Alecto was sobbing on her knees and clutching Antonin's robes.

"Don't hurt my brother," she begged. "It was all my fault. He only did what I asked him to do. Please, Antonin. Please don't hurt him."

Hermione couldn't help but feel moved by the display. She never had a brother. She'd always wanted one, of course. Sadly her mother had been unable to have more children. She wished she could understand the power of loving a sibling so much that she'd be willing to sacrifice her life for theirs. Once upon a time she felt that way about Harry even if he wasn't blood. She'd been willing to take everything Bellatrix Lestrange had planned if only to keep him safe. These terrible siblings whom the entire wizarding world reviled and enjoyed openly mocking loved each other enough to lay down their lives to spare the other. It was impossible to not be moved.

"You know, Antonin, as much as I cannot stand the thought of dipping my wick in a filthy, disgusting Mudblood, I can see the appeal of that one," Amycus said, twitching his head in Hermione's direction. "What did you think of her, Thorfinn? Did she live up to all of the hype?"

Both Antonin and Thorfinn pointed their wands at the wizard on his knees. They had almost identical expressions of fury and rage splashed across their very different faces. The wizard continued to taunt the men about the woman they had just been fighting over. Alecto was sobbing, begging Antonin to spare her brother.

"In hindsight, we probably didn't even need the Amortentia," Amycus persisted. "That witch is a big enough whore that she likely would've spread her legs to anyone willing to look her direction."

That was enough for Antonin. He kicked the man's sister away from him and reached down to grab Amycus by the throat. No one in the room stopped him. One of the assembled wizards sent a binding curse to Alecto to keep her from interfering, but every single person standing there watching the scene unfold knew that in mere moments _someone_ was going to be dead.

"You are a disgrace to the name of wizard," Antonin cursed. His hand continued to squeeze the man's neck with a frightening tenacity.

"Says.. the, uhh… wizard who… fucks… _Mud_ … _bloods_." Amycus could barely speak.

Antonin leaned down to whisper into the struggling wizard's ear. Everyone, including Hermione, strained to hear what he was saying, but not a word escaped. Amycus' eyes constricted in Antonin's direction and he tried to spit on his attacker once more unsuccessfully. At the last moment, Antonin released the man's throat and pointed his wand in the same place his hand just vacated. With the same shout of Russian he'd uttered earlier in the night, Amycus fell to the floor dead.

No one spoke for several minutes. Hermione peeked from back behind Thorfinn to stare at the lifeless body on the ground. She'd almost been a victim to that very curse when she was sixteen years old. It was powerful and terrible and scared the hell out of her. She hoped to go the rest of her life without ever seeing it again.

"Rabastan," Lucius said, breaking the uncomfortable stillness. "Will you show me to your potions room? I believe Thorfinn and Miss Granger are in dire need of an antidote."

"Of course," the master of the manor replied. "Do you know what you need?"

"Yes, unfortunately, Amortentia is a potion I am familiar with," Lucius explained. "Isla, dear, would you like to come with me?"

Miss Black stared at her godfather with widened eyes. Her tears were no longer present, but she was still shaken. They all were.

"No, Lucius. I think I will stay here."

Malfoy nodded his head in her direction before sweeping out of the room with Rabastan leading the way. Antonin stared down at the magically bound witch still lying on the floor. He released the spell. Immediately their ears were assaulted with the harsh cries of a wounded animal. Alecto wasted no time in crawling across the floor to throw herself down on her brother's lifeless corpse. She sobbed into his formal charcoal grey robes, uncaring that she had an audience of four.

Antonin took a few long strides into Alecto's direction. His tall form towered over her weeping body.

"Have you finally learned yet that I want nothing to do with you, Alecto?"

She stared into the man's harsh eyes but couldn't summon the strength to respond.

"I never want to see your face again."

Alecto burst into a fresh round of tears. She buried her face back into her brother's robes.

"I have to report this," Antonin announced to the three still standing. "I am not sure when I will return."

Thorfinn and Miss Black nodded. Hermione couldn't bear to meet his eyes. Antonin plucked a forgotten champagne glass from where it had fallen on the floor in all of the excitement. He murmured a _portus_ spell. Forcing Alecto to touch the glass, he grabbed a handful of her late brother's robes. With a final look in Hermione's direction, Antonin disappeared with the Carrows.

Hermione feared her knees would give out with the sudden onset of emotions. She was relieved that Antonin was gone, but a small part of her feared for him. He might not be the wizard she loved. He might have lost her to the blonde whose arms she found herself in, but he was headed off into the unknown. Meeting with his Dark Lord to report his murder of a fellow Death Eater could mean his own death. It was hard not to feel upset by the prospect of never seeing the passionate man again.

"It's all right, my love," Thorfinn muttered into the top of her head as he held her sobbing form close. "I will keep you protected. I promise."

Lucius' goddaughter watched the scene in front of her with a great deal of interest. Hermione was surprised that she chose to remain behind when _her_ protector was off in some obscure part of the manor brewing an antidote to the supposed potion she was under the influence of. The thought that a _potion_ was what was creating the feelings she had inside for Thorfinn was utterly preposterous. They would all find out when Lucius returned with whatever concoction he was working on. They would all see that she wasn't under the influence.

"Are you all right, Mr. Rowle?" Miss Black asked. She was wringing her hands, obviously desperate to do something. Hermione could sympathize with the feeling of being useless. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Thank you, Miss Black," he responded. "I can't think of anything. Can you, Princess?"

Hermione shook her head in the negative. All she wanted to do was take a long, hot bath, crawl into a comfortable bed and sleep for days in the arms of her wizard. Somehow she didn't think the witch could aid her in any of that.

Lucius and Rabastan returned to the library shortly after Antonin left. Apparently, there wasn't much to the antidote for the most powerful love potion in existence. Miss Black rushed to meet her godfather at the top of the staircase. She took one of the steaming goblets out of his hand.

"I examined the lust potion that you both were given while I was waiting for the antidote to brew," explained Lucius. "It is a fairly straightforward potion. There is not an antidote for that, unfortunately, but the good news is that it will not last long. Both of you will need to flush your bodies out with large amounts of water."

Hermione accepted the steaming goblet from Lucius' hand while Thorfinn accepted the goblet from Isla. Rabastan made his excuses that he must see to the fireworks extravaganza planned. It was already past midnight, but he hoped that his guests hadn't left disappointed yet. He rushed out the library with a final glance in Miss Black's direction that went unnoticed by no one in the room.

"I was unaware you were so adept with potions," Hermione said to Lucius after their host left.

Lucius granted her a gracious, but exhausted smile. He wasn't the only one who wished to crawl into bed and sleep for days with his beloved.

"I am a man of many talents, my dear," he answered.

Hermione stared down at the goblet. She had never, to her knowledge, been under the influence of any kind of mild altering potion. Thus, she was unfamiliar with the antidotes to many of the concoctions that wreaked havoc on those unfortunate enough to imbibe them. She sniffed at the liquid hoping it would trigger some memory from one of her potions classes. At the very least she hoped she would be able to detect any kind of poison that the head of the Malfoy family might try to slip her under the guise of assistance. All she could smell was peppermint and strawberries. At least it seemed as if the antidote wouldn't taste horrible going down her gullet.

Her entire body felt as if she had been doused in a barrel of ice water. As the potion made its way down her throat and into her stomach, she felt the earlier burning and the intensity slowly disappear. It was an odd feeling that she never wanted to experience again. The goblet fell out of her hands and she clutched her abdomen at the onset of a painful cramp. The feeling passed in only moments.

She opened her eyes back up when the pain dissipated. Her caramel color eyes immediately locked on to Thorfinn's deep blue. Memories of earlier in the evening flashed through her brain. Thorfinn standing outside the study. Dragging him down the hallway by his robes. His laughter when the door's lock clicked. Pushing him up against the bookshelf. Kissing him for the first time.

Every detail plagued her until she was afraid she would be sick. He must have been experiencing the same feelings because his deep blue eyes widened and then turned away from hers as swiftly as possible. How could she have thought for a moment that he was _her_ wizard? It was insanity! She would _never_ feel that way about the man. He tormented her throughout her first year at Hogwarts. Then later he tried to kill her more than once. Even the playful banter they shared during his visits to the manor wasn't enough to justify her actions.

She'd shagged Thorfinn Rowle… three times. Four if she counted what he did with his tongue while she was on the window seat that made her scream and see stars. _Oh, my god_ , she whimpered internally. She was certain that she could die of the shame.

"Are you all right, Miss Granger?" Lucius asked, concern etched across his face.

Hermione had to leave. She needed to get away from every single pair of eyes focused on her. They had all seen her naked! They had all seen her naked with Thorfinn on top… _Oh, god_. She never wanted to see any of them again. The shame was unbearable. Her eyes met Thorfinn's again and she remembered exactly what he looked like when he was in the throes of passion. It was not something she could ever forget! She felt cheap and dirty and _raw_. She pushed past Lucius and ran full speed towards the stairs.

"Hermione, wait!"

Thorfinn called out behind her, but she didn't stop. She couldn't bear to spend another moment knowing what she had done with the wizard while under the influence of those fucking potions. Her bare feet carried her down the staircase in only moments. When she pushed open the door to the corridor she almost ran smack into several guests. Ignoring their looks of confusion and in one case, outright hostility, she ran up the main staircase. It wasn't three in the morning yet, but even then, she couldn't bear to be in the bedroom she shared with Antonin just yet. She ran up the stairs to the very top of the house.

A final narrow staircase opened onto a landing that led to a lavish rooftop terrace. It was a beautiful sanctuary she found during one of her first explorations of the manor. Most guests didn't even know it existed. Even Rabastan rarely stepped out amongst the potted plants to watch the sunset. Hermione was grateful to be alone.

Ignoring the almost sheerness of the fabric of her gown, Hermione lay down on the chilled stone. Her entire body ached from the unused to exertions of earlier in the evening and the stress of the knowledge that followed the antidote. For the first time in her life, she could almost understand what drove poor unfortunates to turn their wands on themselves or throw themselves off bridges. Did they have unbearable shame eating away at them too? Did they not know how they were going to face the ones they cared about?

Antonin… just thinking about him caused Hermione to burst into yet another round of tears. His face when the shield was dropped would be forever burned into her memory. The anger and sadness and hurt in his eyes were nothing she ever wanted to see again. Before he understood that she was under the influence of Amortentia, she had never been more frightened of the wizard she had been sharing a bed with for over four months. Even staring down his wand at the Department of Mysteries didn't compare to the moment when he believed she was willingly going behind his back with Thorfinn Rowle of all people! She knew in those harrowing moments that he was capable of killing her with his bare hands.

Would he ever forgive her? She both wanted to know the answer to that question and feared to learn the truth. He might not. They had been making such progress in their relationship. While it certainly wasn't the healthiest affiliation, she enjoyed just about every moment spent in his presence. It had taken time, of course, but now she was having trouble remembering what life was like without him in it. What could that mean?

The door to the rooftop terrace opened with a loud creak. Hermione sat up to face whomever it might be that decided to intrude on her solitude. The terrace was dark with only lights from the grounds illuminating the small area. Despite the dim, she made out the welcome fluffy form of Argos trotting towards her on his massive paws. How he was always able to open shut and even locked doors was a mystery to the witch. She assumed that there was always at least one house elf assigned to making certain the dog was able to find his new mistress.

Argos could sense that there was something wrong with Hermione. She had only ever really been around her half-Kneazle Crookshanks, so she wasn't certain that all animals could sense when their humans were down. Argos could though. He bounced over towards her with a grim expression on his usually joyful face. The Saint Bernard sniffed at her bare feet and without invitation sat his considerable body directly on her feet. Hermione was grateful for the warmth. Her shoes were somewhere in the library she was certain she could never enter again. Too many memories were floating around the volumes in that place.

"Good boy, Argos," she whispered, burying her hands in his fur. "You knew just what I needed, didn't you?"

He let out a quiet 'woof' and licked her face with his slimy, long tongue. She still found it amusing how the same act from any other animal in the past would've sent her scurrying for hot water and soap, but with Argos she welcomed his affection without any hesitation. Hermione laid her cheek against his fur. When she sighed, the animal began to nudge and nuzzle her with his large snout.

"I love you too, big boy. I'm glad there's still someone on my side."

Her pitiful thoughts were interrupted by the sudden explosion of fireworks above their heads. She remembered Rabastan leaving to deal with the display, but the actual explosion caused her to jump in fright. Sensing his human's fear, Argos continued to nuzzle the young woman. The gorgeous show of magical fireworks was truly something to behold. If this had not been a remarkable disaster of an evening for her, Hermione felt certain that she would be thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. Maybe even with Antonin's hand around her waist and whispered promises of what was going to happen in their bedroom after the guests left.

She sighed once more before turning her attention back to the sky. Argos sat at attention on her rapidly warming feet to watch with her. In Hermione's experience with the dogs of her parents' neighborhood on Guy Fawkes Night, dogs usually were terrified of exploding fireworks. How many times had she been unable to sleep because a late night reveler was riling up the neighborhood howlers? It amused her that Argos seemed to be enjoying the fireworks.

"You really are a weird dog, aren't you?"

Argos leaned his gigantic furry body into hers. It was his way of showing affection for the petite witch, even if it sometimes caused her to topple over. When the fireworks were over a short time later, Hermione laid back down on the stones. Argos lowered his body next to hers to share the warmth of his fur. She tucked her bare feet underneath his hind quarters and wrapped her arms around his back. The Saint Bernard fell asleep within moments. Hermione followed soon after. The Social Event of the Year had thoroughly worn her out.

A gentle pair of hands shook Hermione awake when the night sky was beginning to turn orange. At some point she'd managed to turn her body enough that she was able to use Argos' thick neck as a pillow. The slumbering canine didn't seem put out by the change in position in the slightest. Sleeping for several hours on the cold stone was about as uncomfortable as she imagined. Hermione stretched her limbs and gingerly rose from the floor. Every muscle in her body seemed stiff and sore.

Antonin appeared as exhausted as Hermione felt. Dark circles were already forming under his eyes. His outer robes were gone and his shirt untucked. She longed to throw her arms around his muscular frame just as she had only twenty four hours earlier when he slipped into their bed, but one look at his face was all she needed to keep her hands to herself. Maybe one day he would forgive her for her part in what happened the night before. It was not, however, the morning of May 2nd.

"It's time to go to bed, Hermione," he said in a soft, yet cold tone.

She had a million questions for him, a million apologies, but not a single word slipped from her lips. Where could she even begin? Even asking how his meeting with the Dark Lord went didn't seem appropriate. Based on the telltale sign of his trembling hands, she knew he had been subjected to the same curse that he'd used on Alecto. It would likely be days before he was back to his usual form physically. Emotionally… much longer.

She followed the wizard to their bedroom in complete silence. Argos followed behind her in much the same manner. Even the dog understood the need for peace so early in the morning. Antonin pushed open the unwarded door to their bedroom with ease. Two steps in and he began to remove his formal robes from the bloody awful party. She longed for sleep in their large bed, but knew there was no way she was going to crawl under their covers with the smell of another man still present on her skin.

"I'm going to take a quick shower," she announced. Antonin met her eyes, but said nothing.

The water was as hot as she could possibly get it without scalding her body. It seemed awfully clichéd to cry in the shower despite the fact that she had done it a thousand times before in her life. Living in the dorms at Hogwarts sometimes meant the shower was the only private place where she could cry without worrying about her roommates concern. She half-expected the tears to well up in her eyes once more while standing under the hot spray. Her tear ducts, however, were dry. She'd already cried herself out. She scrubbed vigorously on her skin until she was almost raw. By the time the 'quick' thirty minute shower was through, her entire body was red. It was to be part of her penance for actions outside of her control.

Hermione slipped into the black silk pajamas that she had grown to love. Antonin loved the feel of the fabric underneath his hands or so he'd told her repeatedly. She stepped outside of the steamed bathroom nervous for the reception she would receive on the other side of the door. Argos, predictably, was already asleep and snoring on his rug in front of the cold fireplace. The new curtains Rosie recently had installed in their bedroom kept the morning sun from shining through their windows. Everything was still almost as dark as it would be at the darkest part of the night. She couldn't see Antonin, but could hear his steady breathing.

She crawled beneath the familiar bedcovers careful not to jar the bed. Her wizard was exhausted and recovering from Godric knew what. Hermione laid her head down on the pillow that she'd moved to the almost-exact center of the bed the night before. Since their relationship had progressed they both preferred to share the center of the bed wrapped in each other's arms. She was saddened to find the center empty and cold. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Antonin lay on the very edge of his side of the bed with his back towards her.

 _Regress_.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

He could feel the bed dip the moment she returned from the bathroom. Despite the extreme fatigue he was feeling in his entire body from the stress of the night before and the repercussions of his rash act in the library, Antonin couldn't sleep. He wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to slip into the peace of his dream world. Maybe he could even pretend for just a few hours that the fucked up party at Rabastan Lestrange's manor never happened.

She slipped under the covers as careful as she could to not jostle the bed. Sometimes she was just a bit too exuberant when she returned to their bed in the middle of the night. Antonin had always been a light sleeper. At times he struggled to keep his frustration at being awoken from the shaking of the bed to himself. He knew she didn't mean to. She was just unused to sharing a bed with another human. Much like him.

He could feel her move to the center of the bed and despite fervently wishing that he could roll over to join her, he knew he couldn't. She wouldn't appreciate him intruding on her personal space after the night she had. If she never spoke to him again, he wouldn't blame her. Every single fucked up thing that happened to her the night before had been entirely his fault. He should have been there to protect her from the Carrows. There shouldn't have even been an opportunity for her drink to be spiked with the potions that caused the poor girl to believe she was desperately in love with Thorfinn Rowle of all people. She should've been by his side every single moment of the blasted party. How could he have been so foolish?

And then to have Thorfinn throw all of that into his face only minutes after he tried to kill the younger wizard? Antonin couldn't deny that anything he said was false except for maybe the part where he claimed to _love_ Hermione. He wasn't an ignorant man. He was well aware of the fact that Thorfinn's feelings for _his_ witch went a lot further than just mild annoyance and a wish to repay her for past crimes. No, Antonin witnessed almost every single look shot in Hermione's direction from the burly blonde. He knew better than to believe that the man wasn't more than a little interested in the girl. He just simply didn't believe that he loved her. That was an emotion Antonin was fairly certain the man didn't have the capacity for. Certainly he frequently questioned himself capable.

Hermione sighed with that quiet, little sound that Antonin had learned over the past few months meant that she was both sad and annoyed. He steadied his breathing to give the illusion that he was fast asleep. If she thought he was dead to the world, she might not feel obligated to talk about what happened. He knew that her big, Gryffindor heart couldn't bear to keep silent, but he was sure he couldn't handle the conversation they needed to have just yet. Everything was still too fresh. He was afraid that if she confronted him with the truth that he had been a failure as her protector that he would do something rash that he would regret later. Like hand her over to Rabastan's care or Merlin forbid, even Thorfinn's.

His body still ached and trembled from the small amount of the exposure to the Cruciatus Curse his _magnanimous_ master felt was owed him after the dismal report he gave of the death of his Dark Arts Professor. That had been a painful meeting, but he had almost thirty years of knowledge of the cruelties of the master he chose to serve. If he even gave the tiniest hint of an appearance of trying to hide the crime from the Dark Lord, his life would be forfeit. Walking down the path from the Hogwarts main gates to the Headmaster's office with a disillusioned, levitating corpse and a sobbing woman had been a journey he wasn't likely to ever forget.

The Dark Lord agreed that Antonin was justified in exacting his vengeance on Amycus. Hermione Granger was under his protection. All of the Death Eaters were aware that she was to be left unharmed. Amycus broke a simple rule and made a fool of a dangerous man. Their master agreed that his death was justified when the full report of Amycus trying to attack the assembled Death Eaters and their guests was described. Antonin didn't even bring up the subject of what was due to the sister who likely was the mastermind behind the whole plot. The Dark Lord asked Alecto to return to her chambers in the castle to await further punishment for the part she played in the deception.

As he lay on the floor on the Headmaster's office enduring the pain from the Dark Lord's punishment, Antonin couldn't help but worry that he had not heard the last from Alecto Carrow. Give her time to calm down. Time to grieve her brother and hatch another diabolical plan and all bets were off. He would be in danger and so would Hermione. Perhaps he should've done the same to the sister before reporting to Hogwarts.

Somehow he managed to fall asleep sometime after Hermione began to snore quietly behind him. He couldn't have been asleep for more than a few hours before the stiffness in his joints began to plague him with pain. He wasn't old for a wizard, but he was too damn old to be under the torture curse. Knowing he would never be able to get back to sleep, Antonin rose from the bed. She continued to sleep undisturbed. He was changed and out the door without her even being aware.

Antonin could only think of one place to go. When he reached the edge of the Lestrange property, he thought about his, no, _their_ , cottage. Moments later he was popping back into existence at his newly refurbished front door. Gregory had done a fine job. He spent the remainder of the daylight hours until well past midnight securing the wards around the property. If he ever hoped to bring Hermione there, it would have to be the safest property in existence. He couldn't bear for anything else to happen to her again. Not when he had the power to prevent it.

* * *

She was asleep once more in the middle of their bed when he arrived back at the manor. Antonin made as little noise as possible when he crossed the room towards their shared bathroom. The dog lifted a single sleepy eye from his usual spot on the floor before dropping his head back down in peaceful slumber. Not wishing to awaken the young witch, Antonin cast a silencing spell over the entire bathroom while he showered off the dirt and grime he'd accumulated over the past several hours helping his contractor remodel the decrepit bathroom in his cottage. He'd continued working long after the wards were strengthened and Gregory was sent home.

Antonin summoned his sleeping attire from the closet with a simple spell. Dressing swiftly and silently, he climbed into the large bed. He didn't wish to disturb Hermione. One glance at her face in the moonlight revealed dark circles under her eyes and puffy cheeks. Had she spent all of the daylight and evening hours crying? He allowed himself a few minutes to stare at the vision lying just inches away from him before turning his back on her once more. His long legs were almost dangling off the side of the bed, but he didn't want to crowd her. It would likely be some time yet before she was ready to allow him the same liberties that up until the dismal evening before, they'd both taken for granted.

As he blasted an old bathtub with a _reducto_ spell the next day, Antonin couldn't help but wish that he'd worked up the courage to at least speak to his witch before he left her still sleeping in bed that morning. After only a few hours of sleep his thoughts and disturbing dreams prevented him from being able to reclaim the blessed escape of a good night's sleep. He rose to the sounds of her soft snoring and prepared for another day without hearing her voice.

They settled into a routine that broke his heart anew with the dawning of each morning. Antonin couldn't forgive himself for his myriad of failures. Everything seemed so simple when he was kneeling before the Dark Lord in the aftermath of the final battle requesting Hermione as his war prize. He was going to spend the rest of his life using all of his resources to keep her protected from the likes of the wizards and witches he chose to cast his lot with. How difficult could keeping one witch safe be, anyway? He learned the hard way that it was a much more difficult task than he expected.

He hated to admit that he allowed weeks to go by without having the conversation that he knew he needed to have with the woman who still moved to the center of the bed each night. He was a bloody coward. Every morning he woke up before she did and slipped out of the manor before she had a chance to even wish him a pleasant day. Between summons from the Dark Lord and working almost non-stop on getting his cottage fit for human habitation again, he never came home before midnight. Each night she was already asleep when he snuck back inside their room.

"Are you ever going to forgive me?"

The voice was so soft he almost missed it. An entire month had passed since the horrible night he wished he could blot out of his memory. Disturbing dreams woke Antonin up at five in the morning on June 3rd. Listening to the sound of the heavy breathing from the beautiful witch next to him, he carefully removed himself from the bed they shared. The bathroom in the cottage was almost completely finished. He had plans to put the finishing touches on before he had Gregory move on to the tiny kitchen. His mind was so focused on the tile in the massive shower he'd just installed that he didn't even notice Hermione wake up while he was dressing.

"Antonin, please talk to me."

The pleading in her voice broke his heart yet again. He dropped his dragonhide boots on the floor of their bedroom with a crash loud enough that the lazy Saint Bernard jumped. Hermione was sitting in the center of the bed, the covers pooling around her hips revealing the black silk pajamas he'd purchased with her curves in mind. Her face was suspiciously dry. Perhaps she'd cried enough over the past month. Rowena knew he'd blasted enough inanimate objects in his fits of rage and brushed off plenty of hot tears at his own incompetence when he was safely alone.

"I can't bear to live like this any longer, Antonin," she continued. Her tone was calm and strong. This was obviously something she had been preparing herself for. "Are you ever going to forgive me?"

Her repeat of her words from earlier struck Antonin like a stray _stupefy_. What on earth could she possibly mean by asking if _he_ would ever forgive _her_? She did nothing wrong! He was the one that failed in his job to protect her. He was the one that allowed her to be drugged and essentially raped, if not exactly by Thorfinn than certainly by Amycus Carrow and his blasted sister. He was the one that fantasized about killing her with his bare hands in those horrible moments he believed she was having a consensual affair with Thorfinn. He was the one that exposed her to a cold blooded murder in her beloved and sacred library. He was the one who tortured a woman in her presence with the same curse that had been used on her in the past, the curse that she still had nightmares about. He was the one who had been hiding from her for a fucking month because he was too much a coward to face the woman he failed.

"What do you mean, Hermione?" he asked, not trusting his voice.

"Are you ever going to forgive me for what I did?"

Antonin closed his eyes and sighed. He couldn't believe that she was blaming herself for what happened in the library the night of the party. She had been drugged! She had been force-fed mass amounts of a very powerful lust potion mixed in with the strongest love potion known to wizardkind. And then she had been knocking back glasses of champagne as if they were water according to several of the house elves who'd seen her that night. If she had only been drunk and shagged Thorfinn, that would've been one thing. Even with the lowering of inhibitions caused by alcohol she wouldn't have brazenly had sex with a man she didn't even like. There would've had to have been more to their relationship than just that. Hermione Granger wasn't the kind of witch to get sloshed and then crawl into bed with the first wizard who looked in her direction.

"Hermione, you didn't do anything wrong."

Antonin sat at the end of the bed, turning his back towards the woman. He could feel the bed dip down where she was slowly crawling across the mattress towards him. She swung her legs out and sat next to him on the edge.

"Then why won't you speak to me?" she asked, her voice beginning to crack just a bit with emotion. "It's been a _month_ , Antonin. An entire month and you can't even look at me. You can't speak to me. I never see you except when I wake up in the middle of the night and you're lying as far away from me as possible without falling onto the floor."

He couldn't bear to see or hear her upset. Especially over something that she had no control over and something that he _did_ have control over. If he'd only made her stay with him that night…

"I should've been there to protect you," he replied in a whisper.

"You haven't been speaking to me because you can't forgive yourself?"

Her tone indicated that she couldn't believe what she was hearing. She scoffed at his words and stood up from the bed. Antonin longed to pull her small frame into his arms, kiss her and forget the last four weeks of hell, but he couldn't. He didn't deserve her forgiveness.

"You made me believe that you hated me," she spat. Her anger was evident. Antonin could almost feel the sparking of her raw magic. She was a very expressive woman. At times she had trouble keeping her true emotions under control. "You made me believe that this was all my fault."

"I'm very sorry. That wasn't my intention. I thought…"

His feeble argument was cut off by a sharp slap to his left cheek. Instincts took over at the gesture and he had both of her tiny wrists clasped in his large hands in moments. Momentarily frightened by his response, Hermione met Antonin's eyes with a cool determination to not show fear. How he admired his witch!

"You've been hiding from me, Antonin, and I don't appreciate it," she continued. He softened his grip on her wrists, but didn't relinquish hold of her hands completely. "I thought you hated me."

Antonin released his hold on one wrist to cup her cheek. He used his thumb to brush away a single tear that trickled out of her beautiful whiskey colored eyes.

"I could never hate you, _daragaya_."

"Then why have you been avoiding me? Why haven't you talked to me in a fucking month, Antonin?"

Her tone revealed she was more hurt than angry.

"I didn't think you would care to speak with me," he admitted. "I was giving you some space."

"Well, stop!"

Their eyes met again in the dim light of the early morning. He wasn't sure how to read the emotions he was seeing on her face. Would there ever be a day when he could look at his witch and actually understand what she was thinking? _Probably not_ …

"Stop deciding what I feel or think," she continued. "Talk to me! If you'd talked to me you would've known that I've been desperate to talk to you since the night of the bloody party!"

"I assumed that you blamed me."

"Antonin, that's ridiculous. _You_ weren't the one who drugged me. _You_ weren't the one who orchestrated it so that Thorfinn and I would be… well, _fuck_ , it's not your fault!"

"I shouldn't have allowed you out of my sight."

"You're right. You should've forced me to go downstairs when I begged you not to," she conceded. "I would've been safer standing by your side all night. Hindsight reveals a lot, but it doesn't answer everything. If that plan didn't work then the Carrows would've figured out something else. Or maybe someone else would try something to harm me. Can you honestly say that the other Death Eaters haven't learned their lesson to not touch what doesn't belong to them?"

She smiled at him for the first time since they stood in that very room in their formalwear. Antonin felt the burden on his heart grow a bit lighter. Maybe they could move on. And she was absolutely right. No one was daft enough to want to cross him since that night. His reputation had been reconfirmed. Even Walden Macnair had the decency and sense of self-preservation to avoid him since the party.

"Can you forgive me?" he asked.

Hermione leaned down to kiss him. It was a simple act of affection, but she managed to put all of the words she couldn't say aloud on her lips. He could've drunk from her alone and died a happy man. Antonin brought his arms around her waist to pull the witch into his lap. She settled on his thighs, wrapping her arms around his neck. The kiss was short, but the embrace lasted several minutes. She laid her head on his shoulder and he couldn't pull her closer to his chest if he tried. He'd missed being able to smell the hints of lavender in her wild, fantastic curls.

"Are you still going to leave?" she asked quietly, breaking the spell in the dark room.

"Yes," he answered. "I'm putting the last bit of work into the bathroom today."

"May I come with you?"

"Not today."

She sighed. He hated to disappoint the woman, but he didn't want her there while Gregory was demolishing the kitchen. Knowing her she'd want to help in some way and it was too dangerous.

"Gregory is gutting the kitchen today. It'll be dangerous work, but how about tomorrow? You'll be able to see the bathroom when it's completed?"

Hermione brightened up considerably at the promise that he would take her to see what he'd spent the last month working on. She was anxious to see the progress for herself. Life in the manor had become almost unbearable. They were both ready to move out.

"Please don't stay out too late, Antonin," she said, a tiny hint of begging in her tone. "I miss you."

Antonin kissed his witch once more before he finished preparing for the day. He had a lot of work to complete in those daylight hours if he was going to bring her over the next day to view the cottage. With a final kiss before he exited the room, he promised that he would be home long before the sun set that night.

* * *

Not only was he back to the manor hours before his witch usually went to bed, Antonin was back in time to attend the first meal with Rabastan since before he was sent to Russia in April. The master of the manor was pleasantly surprised to see his wayward house guest traipse into the family dining room just a few minutes before the meal was served. He and Hermione had grown used to sharing their meals just between the two of them. Most of the other Death Eaters and former dinner companions had been anxious to avoid Antonin and his wrath since the night of the party. Once word got out of Amycus' untimely demise in his library, Rabastan was no longer as popular of a host as he had been.

"What a pleasant surprise," Rabastan said to the man seated to his right. "I was beginning to think that I would never see you within the walls of this manor again."

"Yes, well, I've been working on the cottage," Antonin began.

"Yes, yes, Hermione was telling me all about that this morning at breakfast. What a dismal way to spend a month, Antonin."

Hermione looked up from the table to give Antonin a warm smile. Both of them dearly hoped that they would be able to finally move past what happened. Their morning conversation had been a small start. Antonin knew it would take more than an apology and a single kiss to make up for his behavior. If he'd only understood how much he was hurting Hermione by staying away from her he would've made some better decisions regarding his behavior.

"Did you finish up the bathroom?" Hermione asked, ignoring the petulant expression on Rabastan's face.

"Yes, I did," he replied, smiling at her curiosity and Rabastan's obvious annoyance that they weren't discussing what he wished to. "I think you're going to like it too. The bathtub was brought in from…"

Both Rabastan and Antonin hissed and flinched at the same moment. They each rose from their seats immediately almost knocking over their chairs in the process. Rabastan rushed out of the room without a word. Antonin kissed Hermione briefly and begged her not to wait up.

The burning of his Dark Mark was of an intensity that Antonin hadn't felt in a while. Something was up. Something _bad_ was happening. Rabastan was several feet ahead of him. He watched the younger wizard disappear in a flurry of his black robes on the outside of the gates past the Anti-Apparition wards. Antonin struggled with his own attire as he ran trying not to worry too much about why the burning felt different than it usually did. A basic summons to a private meeting with the Dark Lord or for an unexpected gathering was simply a short, uncomfortable burn. It was a warning, but didn't intensify until it was ignored for a long period of time. The constant, fiery burn of his left forearm indicated that this was no usual summons.

When the unpleasant squeeze of Apparition ended, Antonin found himself standing in the midst of a chaotic Hogsmeade. Rebels were running through the streets throwing and dodging curses at random. His fellow Death Eaters were struggling to bring some sort of control to the bedlam. A large fire appeared to be consuming a great number of buildings on one of the side streets. Twice he had to duck to prevent getting slammed into by multiple spells shot in his direction.

Antonin sought out a familiar face while he ran towards the High Street in the village. He had to stop multiple times to shoot curses in some active rebels' direction. A few even made direct hits. He needed to learn what was happening and what the objective was before he knew how to proceed further. Working with little information and only speculations could get a wizard and all of his comrades killed.

"Dolohov!"

He stopped moving at the sound of his name. Turning slightly in the direction of the voice, he could see Macnair gesturing for him to come to him. Macnair was surrounded by a small group of masked Death Eaters huddled up and waiting for instruction. Antonin ran at full speed towards the others. He made it about three feet away before he felt the bottom of his robes catch on fire from a stray spell. A quick _aguamenti_ spell stopped the spread of the flames but damn near destroyed most of his outer robes. His light grey trousers were clearly visible through the damaged robes.

"The Dark Lord believes the rebels are going to try to attack Hogwarts," Macnair calmly explained in the midst of the raging battle. "He wants us to take them all out, but most importantly, keep them away from Hogwarts. Dolohov, Rowle, head over to Honeydukes. Don't let _anyone_ inside."

Antonin rushed towards the candy shop ignoring the other masked Death Eater following behind. They hadn't spoken to each other since the night Antonin almost killed him. There had been a few required gatherings that they'd attended at the same time, but no words were ever exchanged. He was thankful that his mask hid his facial expressions. Even knowing that Thorfinn was just as much a victim of the Carrows as his Hermione was, Antonin could do without having to see his face.

They stood outside the front of the popular store. Antonin hadn't been there since the day he bought the chocolates for Hermione for Valentine's Day. It seemed like a lifetime ago. He couldn't allow his mind to wander back to those days for fear that he would be caught unaware. There were rebels popping out constantly to shoot some spells in their directions before disappearing.

" _Stupefy_!"

Thorfinn collapsed next to Antonin before either wizard had a chance to throw up any kind of a decent shield spell. The castor had come out of nowhere, almost literally. If Antonin didn't know any better he would've sworn that the combatant had some kind of powerful invisibility cloak. He scanned the area, but didn't see anyone. It was almost as if the rebels were beginning to pull back from this section of the village.

Antonin was struck with a non-verbal full body bind. It felt as if it came from someone standing just behind him, but that was impossible. There wasn't anyone there! Seconds after landing flat on his back in the middle of High Street a familiar face loomed over his. Neville Longbottom's picture had been posted all over Britain for months. Since the day that he murdered the Dark Lord's beloved familiar, Longbottom was Undesirable No 1. Everyone wanted him dead. Antonin sometimes felt he'd seen the boy's face more often than he'd seen his own. Broadsheets and wanted posters seemed to pop up all over the place.

"Where is Hermione?" Longbottom demanded. He ripped Antonin's mask off of his face and pointed the end of his wand directly into his cheek. "I know you know where she is, Dolohov."

"Hermione is safe."

The wand pressed further in.

"Tell me _where_ she is and I'll let you go."

"Hermione is safe," he repeated.

Longbottom glared down at the wizard and looked as if he was going to press him harder for more information. A series of spells shot through the cool night air whizzing past Longbottom's head. Several almost hit their mark. Thorfinn began to rouse a bit after a muttered _reenervate_ from nearby. Knowing he was in serious danger of being captured, or worse, Longbottom relinquished his hold on Antonin's robes and took off running in another direction.

Thorfinn released the spell binding Antonin to the ground before offering a hand to help him stand. He stared at the blonde's hand for longer than was likely considered polite before taking it. Several Death Eaters ran into their direction. Sounds of the battle were quickly dying. Something didn't sit right with Antonin about their skirmish. It all seemed too random. More like it was meant to be a distraction instead of a full-scale attack.

"The rebels have fallen back to the edge of the village," Rabastan explained when he got close enough to Antonin. "There weren't as many as we expected."

"Feels like this was just meant to distract us," Antonin replied.

"Yeah, I think you're right. They were more concerned with making noise than doing actual damage."

Moments later more Death Eaters came running into their direction shouting.

"Apparate to the Umbridge Home!"

"The Umbridge Home is under attack! Go there!"

Antonin picked his mask up off of the ground. He was busy putting it back on while the others were Disapparating around him with louder and louder cracks. Part of him wanted to disobey the orders to rush to the aid of the Umbridge Home. If he had the chance, he would like to burn the place to the ground. Well, after he removed the poor girls imprisoned in there first that is. It was a travesty that their nation would live to regret one day. He hoped soon. Knowing there wasn't any way to avoid going, Antonin turned in a circle and Apparated to the damned prison he never wanted to see.

It only took him about three seconds to realize that _this_ was what the rebels were really gathering to do on that clear June evening. Hogsmeade was simply a diversionary tactic used to keep as many forces as possible away from the actual scene. Antonin couldn't help but be a bit impressed by the massive bubble shield surrounding the building. There were dozens of wizards around him dueling with some of the outliers outside of the bubble. Streams of light were flying past him lighting up the night sky.

He knew his duty would be to bring down the barrier. That's what he was always ordered to do. If he hadn't decided to take his father's advice and pledge his life to the Dark Lord, he likely would've ended up working in Egypt for Gringotts breaking curses. It was something he excelled in.

"Get those wards down now!" he shouted to several wizards standing around waiting for instructions.

Antonin set about casting some investigative spells to figure out just what the barrier was made of. If they used the wrong charms on a protection it could mean massive explosions or worse. While he set about learning what he could about the tactics used by the Rebels' obviously talented wards-wizards and wards-witches, he kept an eye on what was happening within the bubble.

Groups of young women in various stages of obvious pregnancy were being ushered out of the building. Most of them were crying, terrified of what was happening to them even if it brought the promise of some sort of freedom. There were dozens, maybe even a hundred or so witches in dark clothing standing around the outside of the building. Antonin knew that women weren't allowed inside of the building and was intensely curious as to what purpose these witches served. It became obvious the first time he witnessed an entire group of four or five 'Umbridge Girls' disappear. The witches dressed entirely in black were the holders of portkeys.

He was thankful that the mask he wore could hide his satisfied smirk from curious onlookers. This was a well-organized raid. The rebels were getting the poor girls out and somewhere to safety. Hermione would be very pleased to hear about this evening when he was finally able to make it back to the manor. Many of those petrified girls were friends of hers. As he continued to pinpoint just what enchantments the barrier was consisted of, he couldn't help but keep an eye out for the pretty Ravenclaw. Luna, he learned from Hermione that night she told him she'd been unfair and unappreciative of his efforts to keep her safe. Luna _Lovegood_ , he learned later after reading an article about Dumbledore's Army. He hoped he would see the girl and be able to give Hermione some positive confirmation that she'd made it out all right.

Luna had been in his thoughts the night he murdered Amycus Carrow. Not that he would _ever_ admit to anyone, alive or dead, but _she_ was the ultimate reason why Antonin turned his wand on Amycus with the rage he had. How many times had he woken up in the middle of the night unable to breathe because she was haunting his dreams? He would never forget the way her eyes met his across the Great Hall. Why the poor girl left such an impression was beyond him. He would likely never understand. Certainly there were plenty of other girls who were being raped right alongside Luna. She was the only one that met his eyes and shattered his heart.

 _"You are a disgrace to wizards, Amycus. You are a small, cruel man who deserves worse than the paltry death I'm about to give you. If there is a Hell, I'll likely see you there one day, but at least I can live the rest of my life comforted knowing that you'll never be able to torture and rape another innocent girl."_

In the moment that he killed Amycus he wasn't even thinking about the damage he'd done to his witch. Antonin was thinking only of the pretty, blonde Ravenclaw of his worst nightmares. He'd wanted Amycus to know _why_ he was killing him. He had been very close to simply taking both of the Carrows to the Dark Lord for him to mete out their punishment. Thoughts of Luna changed his mind. Part of him wondered if murdering Amycus would finally stop the nightmares.

The protective bubble was made up of a large combination of extremely intricate wards. If Antonin hadn't been refreshing his knowledge of the most powerful wards to fortify his new home within the past few weeks, this task might have been an impossibility. As it was, he knew several curses that would bring the protections down… when he wanted them down. He was in no hurry. As far as he was concerned, the rebels were performing a valuable civil service. The removal of all of the prisoners from the den of rape and torture was admirable. Antonin was going to do as much as he personally could to make certain that the raid was a success for the rebels.

His life would be forfeit if anyone knew what he was doing. Most Death Eaters had a basic enough understanding of Occlumency to protect themselves, but Antonin's knowledge on most things was more than just basic. He would have to work hard to keep his shields up to prevent anyone from learning that he was actively trying to sabotage what he was ordered. There were plenty of spells he could perform that would make it appear that he was busy and working hard. He employed every single one of them. There were even some minor wards he could break that would keep the overall integrity of the bubble intact. He went about breaking a few of those to strengthen his appearance of cooperation.

The entire raid of the Umbridge Home seemed to take little time at all. It was extremely organized. Antonin felt that the rebel forces should be proud of themselves for the execution of an almost perfect plan. The stream of young witches being led out of the building in their ghastly yellow hospital gowns trickled down to almost nothing. Portkeys were swooping the women off to their safe houses.

"That's it!" shouted a wizard running out the doors of the building. "They're all out! Everyone's out!"

Cheers rang throughout the night air from the rebels. Internally, Antonin was cheering every bit as much as they were. If the prisoners had been sentenced to Azkaban or placed in any other kind of prison facility, Antonin wouldn't have been so eager to make certain that they were rescued. But a facility that locked up young women for the sole purpose of being breeders for the population at large? It was the plot of some dystopian horror novel that had no business becoming a reality. He would fight against that barbarity as long as he had breath in his body.

When the last clump of yellow-clad ladies disappeared and the remaining rebels began to Disapparate from the area on their own, Antonin shouted to the others working on removing the barrier the proper incantation. Less than half a minute later, the bubble was gone. The Dark Lord's forces rushed towards the shell of a prison. A short skirmish broke out amongst the rebels not swift enough to Disapparate in time and the Death Eaters who were finally able to fight. No one was seriously injured and the entire battle was over in mere minutes.

The Ministry had always had a bad habit of showing up just when the fighting was done. Antonin rolled his eyes when he heard the familiar pops indicating reinforcements in their distinctive auror robes had arrived. By the time Yaxley's subordinates in the Department for Magical Law Enforcement showed up, the party was over. The masked fighters were free to leave once the Ministry had everything under control.

Antonin wanted nothing more than a stiff drink and maybe a long soak in the tub. His muscles were sore. Maybe he could even tempt Hermione to join him for a hot bath. They could finally have the conversation they needed to have surrounded by bubbles and some of Rabastan's expensive champagne. Hermione would like that. He'd never known a woman to take as many bubble baths as his witch. Of course he'd never lived with a witch other than his mother. Maybe they were all like Hermione.

"Mr. Dolohov?"

A familiar voice broke through his reverie. The vast majority of the other Death Eaters had already left the area. He turned to see the blasted Umbridge woman rushing towards him. How could she know it was him? He was masked for Merlin's sake!

"Is that you, Mr. Dolohov?"

Antonin ripped his mask off when the woman was only inches away. She smiled at her with that simpering grin he'd seen a hundred times in the Daily Prophet. This one was a politician if he'd ever met one. His expression was hard and unfriendly, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Was the protective barrier too difficult?" she asked, the grin falling from her unattractive face. "Why couldn't it be broken sooner?"

"It was very advanced," he replied.

He didn't slow his steps to respond. He was under no obligation to stop and be interrogated by the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic. Umbridge was surprisingly quick for someone with such short legs. She was able to meet him almost stride for stride.

"You are supposed to be one of the best curse breakers," she spat, her anger and disgust evident. "I know for a fact that Gringotts wanted you to work for them for years before you were arrested. How could you fail?"

Antonin didn't want to argue with the woman. The hour was growing late and he was tired. She was not helping his irritable mood in the slightest. Their steps had taken them to a dark, vacant car park several hundred yards away from the prison. The witch was obstinate.

"Do you want to know what I think, Mr. Dolohov?"

"I get the feeling that you are going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not."

"I think you _wanted_ the barrier to stay up."

He stopped short in his tracks at her accusation. A satisfied smirk crossed the woman's face.

"Ahh, yes, it looks like I've struck a nerve."

"You are making a very dangerous allegation, Umbridge."

"Oh, I am very aware, Mr. Dolohov. Very aware indeed."

She stepped closer to his large frame, completely unperturbed by the fact that he towered over her.

"What do you think the Dark Lord would say if he learned that you _deliberately_ sabotaged a mission? Knowingly allowed the rebels to succeed?"

Antonin narrowed his eyes. The woman continued to smirk.

"I believe that your personal relationship with Hermione Granger is clouding your judgment," she continued. "I'm sure your master would be more than interested in knowing about your actions this evening. Don't you think so?"

Antonin stepped closer to the woman. She was resolute and refused to show fear. Either that or she was stupid enough to not understand that he could kill her with little effort at all.

"I should've killed Granger when I had the chance."

His wand was out and in the woman's face.

"I won't make that mistake twice, Mr. Dolohov."

* * *

 _Author's Note: Thanks again to all of my awesome reviewers and to all of my new follows and favs!_


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

She woke abruptly to the shaking of two very insistent hands. In the months that she'd lived with Antonin Dolohov under "his protection" Hermione had been woken up by his warm, familiar hands more often than she could count. As her sleep-filled eyes began to adjust themselves in the darkness of their shared bedroom, she came to the realization that he'd never been so demanding before. Something was wrong. One glimpse of his pinched, worried face caused her stomach to constrict in fear.

"Where have you been?" she asked in the same moment she threw her arms around him. "I've been so worried about you. Rabastan came home _hours_ ago."

"I can explain everything later," he answered, gently removing her arms from his person. "For now, _daragaya_ , I need you to trust me."

If she hadn't shared his bed for months and grown quite close to the fearsome Death Eater, the intensity in his eyes would've frightened her. Something was _very_ wrong. He had done nothing to hurt her, physically at least, since he'd captured her in Inverness. Of course she would trust him.

"All right," she replied.

"Pack a small bag and put your cloak on," he instructed. "We are leaving the manor tonight. It's no longer safe for you here."

She wanted to ask him a thousand questions that were floating around in her brain. Why wasn't she safe? What happened? Were they going to the cottage? Would they be safe there? Was he in danger too? Had he done something wrong? In the end she simply pushed all of her questions out of the forefront of her mind and chose to trust the man. He had already promised her that he would do everything in his power to keep her safe. She had to trust his promises.

Hermione rushed to their shared closet. A small bag seemed to appear out of nowhere. No doubt Antonin conjured it when she wasn't paying attention. She shoved spare knickers and a few dresses inside. Antonin met her in the closet with his own bag.

"I will come back for the rest," he explained as he filled his own.

"What about Argos?"

The dog had been watching every move they made since he was rudely awoken by Antonin's noisy entrance. He was, as usual, only steps behind Hermione keeping a watchful eye on his human.

"I will come back for him tomorrow," he promised. "He will be all right for one night. It's more important that we get you somewhere safe."

She tried to pretend like she wasn't afraid. How long had she been wishing to move out of Rabastan's manor? Now that it was happening she was worried. Why was she no longer safe in the house she'd been living in for months? Antonin must have sensed her anxiety. He pulled her briefly into his strong arms to kiss her once.

"I will keep you safe. You simply have to trust me, Hermione."

"I do, Antonin. I _do_ trust you."

He released her from the embrace to rush over to his nightstand. Hermione took a deep breath to compose herself before summoning Rosie. The elf arrived in moments.

"Yes, Missy Hermione? How can Rosie help?"

"Rosie, Mr. Dolohov and I are leaving the manor tonight," Hermione explained. "Would you and the other elves be kind enough to pack up all of our belongings? Mr. Dolohov will be coming back in a day or so to retrieve it all."

"Rosie will be happy to help," the elf replied, immediately looking over the shared closet, a plan of action already formulating in her organized mind.

Hermione left the elf alone in the closet when it was apparent she was no longer required. Rosie had decades of experience running the large estate and caring for its occupants. Antonin was standing at the foot of the bed waiting for her to emerge. She could sense his impatience and frustration. He could barely stand still.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes."

Antonin took the small bag from her and gripped her hand in his. They were halfway to the door when Hermione stopped to comfort an anxious Argos.

"We don't have time, Hermione!" Antonin snapped.

Hermione ignored him long enough to kiss Argos on the head and promise the dog they'd be back for him. Her dog followed them out of the manor despite the grueling pace Antonin set for them. He stopped at the gates to 'woof' and give Hermione once more pathetic whine before Antonin grasped her arm to Apparate them away from the manor.

The cool night air blowing off of the ocean struck Hermione immediately as soon as the squeezing and whirling were over. Instead of Apparating fifty yards away from the cottage as they'd done the first and only time she'd seen the domicile, Antonin brought them directly within the garden walls to their front door. He released her arm and a deep breath the moment their feet landed.

"Stay outside for a moment, please," he begged. "I want to make sure everything is all right inside."

"Antonin, what is going on?"

The wizard either did not hear her question or chose to ignore it. He simply handed her both of their bags, held his wand in front of his face and carefully opened the front door. Hermione couldn't help but feel she was in the middle of some wizarding version of an old police drama. Exchange Antonin's wand for a pistol and it was spot on. She was worried because she had never seen the man act so uncharacteristically frantic and nervous. Just what in the bloody hell happened?

He was inside for several minutes before he opened the front door to invite her in. If she hadn't been so concerned about his behavior, Hermione might have been able to focus on the numerous changes that had already been made to their new home in her absence. The large living room was crowded with boxes of Antonin's belongings and miniaturized furniture waiting for an _engorgio_ spell and their permanent place in the home.

"Antonin, what is going on?" she asked once more. She dug her heels in and refused to move further into the cottage until he explained just why in the hell he'd dragged her out bed in the middle of the night, forced her to pack a bag and leave her dog behind. Too many changes were going on all at once. "Why are you behaving so strangely? Why is Rabastan's home suddenly unsafe?"

Antonin ran his hands through his rumpled hair. Hermione took a moment to examine the wizard further. His robes appeared to be burnt, a large gaping hole in the back revealed the color of his trousers. There were scratches on his face almost as if someone clawed his handsome features. Every muscle in his body appeared tense. He gave the impression of a rubber band pulled too tightly and only moments from snapping. When compared to the relaxed albeit unusually quiet wizard she'd shared a couple of glasses of fire whiskey with earlier in the evening, it was apparent that Antonin's evening away from the manor did not compare to Rabastan's evening.

"Tonight…" he began and immediately shut his mouth.

"What, Antonin? Tell me! You are scaring me!"

His entire countenance seemed to soften at her simple words. Hermione knew that he had no desire to frighten her. They'd spoken about that very fact numerous times in her captivity. Antonin took a deep breath, exhaling most of his tension away. When he pulled Hermione into his chest to hold his arms around her, she felt the rest of his tension melt away.

"I'm sorry, _daragaya_ ," he whispered into her hair. "It has been a really long and strange night. I apologize for scaring you."

"It's all right, Antonin," she assured him. "Just please tell me what has you so unnerved. I've _never_ seen you like this."

Antonin kissed her forehead.

"Perhaps it is better if I show you."

He led her to the cellar door by the hand without further explanation. She couldn't explain why exactly but she began to feel nervous and sick to her stomach. Why couldn't he just answer her question? When Antonin opened the creaking door to the lower region of the cottage, Hermione's sharp ears instantly heard what sounded to be muffled cries coming from the space. Her anxiety increased tenfold. Antonin did not release her hand when they began the descent into the cellar. He couldn't even if he wanted to. Hermione was clinging to it too strongly.

The cellar was very dark. Each step the couple made down the old, rickety stairs only increased the muffled cries. Hermione was terrified to open her eyes when they reached the bottom. She wasn't naïve. Not after living with two Death Eaters for months. She knew the kind of man Antonin was, the dirty, violent acts he'd committed for his master and for his own twisted pleasure. It certainly didn't take the brightest witch of her age to know that her Antonin had someone bound and gagged in the basement.

"Please open your eyes, Hermione," he begged in a whisper.

In the twenty or so seconds that it had taken her to descend into the darkness, Hermione had been running through all possible hostages that could be tied up in the cellar of her new home. She wasn't sure who it could be, but knew that she didn't want to open her eyes at Antonin's insistence. To do so would make this all very real.

"Hermione, _daragaya_ , please."

At some point in her attempt to remain in ignorance, Antonin had turned all of the lights on downstairs. There weren't many. Just enough to light up the shadowy corners and reveal one Dolores Jane Umbridge tired to a chair and cursing the new arrivals with all of the vitriol her gagged mouth could spew.

"Antonin!" Hermione gasped.

She felt weak in her knees, afraid that her own slim legs wouldn't be up to the task of supporting her small frame. Hermione stared at the woman she detested more than any other human being in the world. Alecto Carrow had _nothing_ on the toad-faced bitch glaring daggers in her direction. Sensing her discomfort, Antonin placed a supportive arm around her waist. She was thankful for the extra bit of support. She needed whatever he could spare.

"What is going on here?" she asked Antonin in a low voice she hoped wouldn't carry to her nemesis' ears. "What did you do, Antonin?"

"What I had to," he answered.

Hermione shrugged his arm off of her waist. With a final glance in the hated woman's direction, she ran up the staircase as fast as she could. Completely ignoring Antonin's cries that she stop, Hermione pushed open the door to the living room. Her protector was only a few steps behind her, but she paid him no attention. She headed towards the unfinished kitchen. She was upset and needed the comfort she had always been able to find in a steaming cup of tea.

Naturally there was no way to fix tea in a kitchen that was nothing but four walls and dust. Gregory had been thorough in his demolition of the tiny room. Frustrated that she couldn't find anything to occupy her brain and her hands with for even a brief time, Hermione ran her hands through her hair. Her wizard knew a foolproof method to calm her down. He summoned a new bottle of fire whiskey from amongst his packed belongings and floated it across the room to hover within her grasp. Hermione drank straight from the mouth of the bottle with no shame. After three or four gulps, she was calm enough to trust herself to speak.

"Antonin, _dear_ ," she began in a deceptively steady and the tiniest bit sarcastic tone. "Can you explain to me why we have the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic tied up in our cellar in the middle of the night?"

Antonin snatched the bottle from her hands to take his own swill. Or several. He left the silently fuming witch waiting for far longer than was polite. Just as the sparks of her frustration began to leak out into her curls as bursts of unintentional raw magic, he spoke.

"She was threatening you. She said that she made a mistake when she didn't kill you when she had the chance, but she wouldn't make that mistake twice."

For the first time that night, Hermione realized that the strange emotion she was seeing in his eyes was fear. And more than that, it was fear _for_ her. It was a heady feeling to suddenly learn that the dangerous Death Eater she'd grown accustomed to could be put so out of sorts with the fear of someone killing her. She had been under the false impression that Antonin was afraid of nothing. To see him standing inches from her with his fear on display for the world to see, Hermione was reminded that first and foremost, Antonin Dolohov was a man.

Hermione took the bottle out of hands, swallowed one more mouthful of liquid courage and placed the bottle on the floor. The sound of the clink as it settled on the hardwoods was deafening in a room where neither occupant dared to breathe. Hermione stepped closer to the man. She wrapped her arms around his waist before laying her head on his broad chest. His arms snaked around her back to pull her even tighter. He was slowly calming, but Hermione could still feel his entire body tremble. She wasn't certain if it was fear or anger causing the usually stoic, unflappable wizard to show a more human side to the persona he projected to the world at large. Likely it was a combination of both.

"If something were to happen to you, Hermione…"

"Shh, I'm all right," she whispered.

Hermione lifted her eyes to meet Antonin's intense dark brown eyes. They held a depth with no bottom. She could see his vulnerability staring back. It was a rather humbling experience. Because he was almost an entire foot taller, Hermione had to stand on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his. He needed no encouragement to reciprocate the kiss. With the exception of the short kiss almost twenty four hours earlier in their bedroom, they hadn't kissed since the morning of Rabastan's fucking nightmare of a party. Hermione realized in that moment as their whiskey flavored tongues languidly explored the other's mouth that she missed this man.

 _When did that happen_? She wondered to herself. They'd been in the same bed the previous month but just as it had been when she first moved to the manor, they never touched. She'd grown used to sleeping with his arms wrapped securely around her body. She had almost come to expect to always have the freedom to kiss the wizard. Not since before he was summoned to Russia had she felt so at ease in his presence.

They might have finally progressed past simply snogging in the gutted kitchen like a couple of fourth years if the niggling reminder of Dolores Umbridge's presence in the cellar hadn't popped back into Hermione's mind. She placed both of her hands on Antonin's chest, stilled her lips, and carefully pushed him back. He was reluctant to stop the activity and Hermione had to remove her lips from his three or four times before he finally gave up. With a defeated sigh, he broke their embrace.

"Will you please tell me what happened tonight?"

Antonin plucked the bottle of whiskey off of the floor. He grasped Hermione's hand in his and led her back out into the living room. A simple flick of his wand enlarged a comfortable looking dark leather sofa to a size adequate enough for the couple to sit side by side. Hermione sat next to him, trying to ignore the muffled sounds under their feet.

"I saw Neville Longbottom this evening," Antonin announced. He swallowed another mouthful of the harsh liquid before offering it back to his companion. Hermione refused, too interested in news about her friend.

"Where?" she asked. "Is he all right? He wasn't captured, was he? How did he look?"

Antonin silenced her influx of questions with a short kiss.

"I saw him in Hogsmeade, _daragaya_. I believe I have him to thank for the dismal state of my robes. Macnair shouted my name and I was immediately struck with an incendio spell. I'm assuming they did that to identify me later."

"What was happening in Hogsmeade?"

Antonin chuckled.

"You ask so many questions! Let me answer some of them."

"I'm sorry," she replied with crimson cheeks.

"The rebels were all over Hogsmeade fighting and starting fires. We assumed that they were planning on attacking the school. Thorfinn and I were ordered to stand guard outside of Honeydukes."

Hermione almost had to bite her tongue to prevent asking him about Thorfinn. She knew he would always be a sensitive subject between them, but she couldn't help but be worried about the blonde wizard in Antonin's presence. She worried that the two of them might one day come to deadly blows and it would all be her fault.

"Most of the fighting was happening on the other side of the village, but suddenly out of nowhere Thorfinn was struck."

Hermione felt her stomach clench. While she would _never_ admit so outside of the confines of her own head, she'd grown to not hate Thorfinn so much. Before the party she wished she would obliviate from her memory, he'd provided her with some entertaining conversations. He might be some kind of disgusting pervert, but he could be bloody hilarious too. She'd never been more thankful to see him running up the stairs to stop Walden Macnair from 'sampling Antonin's witch'. It hadn't escaped her notice that she felt safer in the manor on nights he was present.

"Unfortunately, he was just hit with a stunner," Antonin explained with a sneer plastered across his handsome face. "Sadly he will survive."

She attempted to hide her relief by choking down more whiskey. Her insides were already positively on fire from the strong liquor. She knew any more and she might spend her first night in their new cottage getting very familiar with the brand new toilet.

"Your mate put me in a full body bind," Antonin continued. "Demanded to know where you were. I told him you were safe, but he didn't seem pleased with my answer. Probably would've tried to hex more information out of me if Thorfinn hadn't started to rouse. He's a giant arsehole. You have to put a lot of power behind a stunner if you want to keep him down for long.

"Your Neville got away though. I guess he looked all right. Very concerned about you though. He an old sweetheart?"

Hermione snorted at his question and his narrowed eyes. Was Antonin actually jealous of Neville Longbottom?

"Hardly," she replied. "Just a friend. While he _was_ the first of my friends to actually realize I was a girl, he wasn't interested."

"Bloody fool," he said, a relaxed smile crossing his face.

"I'm inclined to agree, but that no longer matters. Were they really trying to attack Hogwarts? Is that where you found _her_?"

Antonin placed a hand on her back and began to calmly rub it up and down her spine. The attention was intended to soothe her frayed nerves. It both unnerved and excited her that he knew just how to placate her with a simple touch. Had he always known?

"No, Hogsmeade was just a diversion. The real plan was to raid the Umbridge Home."

Hermione gasped. She squeezed his hand in hers, hardly daring to breathe.

"Yes, _daragaya_ , they were successful."

Antonin kissed her once on her cheek before brushing away the tears that were falling freely from her eyes.

"The rebels were able to get _all_ of them out," he continued. "I made certain they were able to myself."

Her eyes widened. She stared at him in shock. What could he possibly be admitting to? Hermione knew how much he hated the Umbridge Home. How many times did he threaten to hex the bollocks off of the next wizard who mentioned the damn prison in her presence? In private he'd labeled it appalling and revolting. _Government sanctioned rape_.

"That's, uhh, kind of the reason why the old bitch is down in the cellar."

"Antonin Vadimovich Dolohov, if you don't explain to me _this second_ what you are on about, I will scream!"

He was an intelligent enough wizard to suppress his chuckles. That was a lesson that Harry Potter learned too late and one that Ronald Weasley _never_ learned. It was still obvious to Hermione, however, that he was amused by her outburst.

"It didn't take us long to learn that the rebels were just making noise in an effort to keep us away from the Home. When we regrouped and Apparated to the prison, the raid was well under way. It was extremely organized, Hermione. You would've been impressed. There was a large bubble barrier around the entire building and about a hundred yards or so out. Inside the protective wards rebels were running inside the building to release the poor girls. Witches were standing around waiting to portkey several of them out at a time.

"My duty is usually to break through any enchantments we run across during a mission. Several of us set about trying to bring down the protections so we could join in the fight. While I was casting some diagnostic spells, I realized what they were doing. You know how I feel about that place. It's an abscessed, pestilent boil on the arse of our society. I didn't _refuse_ to bring down the barrier. Simply _delayed_ its destruction until several of the rebels announced that all of the girls were out of the building and I watched the last disappear."

Hermione had never been prouder of the man seated next to her than she was at that moment. They both understood the risks that he had taken to ensure those women, many of them her own friends and classmates, were able to safely leave the hell that Umbridge created.

"When it was all over I was walking away from the area to try to clear my head. Somehow that bitch knew it was me. Must've asked one of my comrades. I still had my mask on when she called my name. She followed me. Accused me of delaying the breaking of the barrier because of my relationship with you. Said she was going to take her concerns to the Dark Lord."

Hermione gasped.

"It's all right, Hermione. She didn't frighten me. I've been a faithful servant of the Dark Lord's for almost thirty years. She's too frightened of her own shadow to speak to him directly without fainting. No, it was the moment she threatened _you_ that I knew something had to be done about her."

Antonin shrugged his shoulders.

"She put up a bit of a fight as you can see by the marks on my face, but in the end, she wasn't any match for me. I broke her wand and Apparated her here. I knew that if she managed to get away from me the first thing she would do would be to contact the Ministry. They would come after you. I couldn't risk her finding you. That's why I wanted to bring you here. No one knows where this cottage is located. All of the legal documents have been sealed. It's Unplottable. I have a rather strong Fidelius Charm on the property. No one can find us here."

"Antonin, I don't know what to say."

"I know it wasn't the smartest plan I've ever made," he conceded. "She caught me in a giant lie. A lie that would mean both my life and yours if it was ever discovered. I don't regret my actions, _daragaya_. Not for a moment. Those poor girls deserved better."

Hermione put every single ounce of gratitude and affection she had for the man in a single kiss. If he was surprised by the sudden movement, he didn't show it. The witch straddled his lap to crush her lips to his. Antonin was only too happy to reciprocate the amorous affections. As Hermione slipped her arms around his neck, he wrapped his around her back. When their kiss began to deepen and their desires smolder, his hands travelled up and down the back of her body. She gasped the first time both of his hands cupped her arse, but the smile that crossed her lips still pressed up against his gave him permission to continue.

She could only blame part of their actions on the large amount of whiskey she'd consumed since they arrived at the cottage. Most of her, however, had been longing to run her hands and her mouth up and down the entire length of his body for months.

"You are. The. Bravest. Man I. Have. Ever known," she punctuated her sentence with fierce open mouthed kisses.

Antonin growled in the back of his throat at the seductive rolling of her hips. She chuckled at the feel of him growing harder with each brush. When he could finally take her teasing no more, he placed both of his hands back on her arse and lifted her off of the couch as if she weighed no more than a very small animal. She gasped at the sudden change in her elevation which in turn only made him smirk. Remembering the night so many weeks earlier that had been interrupted and ruined by the untimely call of an impatient master, Antonin carefully laid the witch down on the bare floor.

Her smile as he began the unbuttoning of her pajama top would prove to be his undoing. They would have the rest of their lives to make slow, tender love. In that moment, neither of them could bear the absence of sensation for much longer. He pointed his wand at the flustered witch underneath him and divested her of every stitch of clothing she had on with a simple non-verbal spell.

"Naughty man, I'm cold," she teased.

"Not for long."

His clothing landed in a heap next to hers only moments later. The chill that passed through Hermione's entire body had nothing to do with the cool air in the cottage. One look into the wizard's eyes and she could hardly breathe. Could all of that desire really be for _her_? She'd never felt so deliciously wanted.

He couldn't keep his hands still until they'd touched every single inch of her skin. Hermione's entire body erupted into goosebumps wherever his hands landed. When his mouth followed and kissed and licked and nipped every place he'd just touched, she couldn't take it anymore. She grasped each of his hands in hers to pull him back up to her face. He covered her mouth with the single most heated and passionate kiss she'd ever experienced. If she hadn't already been lying flat on her back, the sensation would've knocked her over.

"You are so beautiful, _daragaya_ , I can hardly breathe."

He continued to croon to her as his hands ghosted across her skin down to her thighs. It was déjà vu and a moment that she prayed to every god that would listen to her that his Dark Lord would leave him alone for the next several minutes, maybe hours. His gentle hands squeezed her thighs and completely without shame, she opened herself up to the man above her. In that moment they weren't wizard and witch, captor and captive, Death Eater and Mudblood, Darkness and Light. They were simply man and woman preparing themselves to engage in the dance that was as old as time.

She cried out his name when he _finally_ slid inside her body. Antonin hovered over her body for several moments without moving in an effort to calm his breathing and allow her to adjust to the feel of him being completely sheathed inside of her. She felt pleasantly full. Even in those very first few seconds she knew she was about to experience a connection unlike any she'd had with the handful of men that had come before her wizard. His eyes were tightly closed. Hermione reached a hand up to cup his cheek. He opened them in an instant to meet hers. She almost sobbed at the expression she saw in his depths. An eagerness and a fear mixed with his desire. He was as raw as she was likely to ever see him.

"My darling, please," she whispered.

She gasped when she felt him begin to move in and out. They stared in each other's eyes as their passion grew. When she would moan and wish to close them in a heated moment, his gentle caress of her cheek would draw them open once more. She knew she could speak for both of them that she never wanted this feeling, this moment in time to end. There was something unmistakable between their two souls. No matter what attempted to break them apart from the other, they would always find their way back. The intensity of the experience and the raw emotions trickling out from them both meant that their first foray into the magical act of lovemaking was not meant to last long. She could feel her passion building like the coming of a major storm. When the tempest finally broke and she screamed her lover's name as a prayer, he tipped over with his woman.

"You were made for me," he said between struggles to catch his breath.

Hermione used the last bit of strength she possessed to lean up enough to kiss him forcefully on the mouth.

"And you were made for _me_ ," she answered.

Antonin lay on the floor next to his witch. He wrapped his arm around her back and pulled her to his chest. She laid her head in the crook of his shoulder, sighing contentedly between her own struggles for normal breathing. Neither of them could be sure how long they remained on the unyielding hardwood floor basking in the afterglow of their passionate activities. Long enough for the perception of their entire world to change.

If the floor had been more comfortable and they didn't have an unwelcome guest in their home, the couple might have been content to lie in the same spot until the sun rose the next morning. Their first experience together was over before either of them was truly ready. A loud crash from down in the cellar completely ruined the mood.

Hermione rose with Antonin to pull her discarded pajamas back on. In the moment watching her lover dress while muffled cries continued from downstairs, she felt inappropriately dirty. How could she have done what they just did while a hostage was tied up just underneath them? Antonin caught her strange expression when he was pulling his trousers back on.

"What is it, _daragaya_?"

"I'd almost forgotten she was downstairs," Hermione answered unable to look the wizard in the eye. "That was extremely inappropriate."

Antonin kissed the top of her head.

"Adrenaline," he responded. "We got caught up in the moment and you've got to admit, we've been waiting for that moment for a long time."

She felt her cheeks flush. He placed two fingers under her chin to gently tilt her face up to his. An impish smirk crossed his face.

"This is likely the closest she's gotten to a proper shag in a very long time."

Hermione certainly couldn't argue with his logic. Why anyone would willingly touch that woman was beyond her.

"What do we do now, Antonin? With her?"

"You know she can't leave this cottage, _daragaya_. If Umbridge escapes, she will have us both hunted down. No one can ever know she was here."

She wasn't surprised by the blunt words he used to describe their predicament. Of course Umbridge would never allow them a moment's peace if she was able to rejoin the rest of the wizarding world. It was dangerous to have her as an enemy especially if Antonin were no longer able to protect her.

"You're right. You're absolutely right."

Hermione slipped out of Antonin's embrace and headed for the cellar door. She could feel him follow her only a few steps behind. If her wizard was going to commit a crime to protect them both, she was not going to allow him to do it alone.

Umbridge was lying on the cold stone floor still tied to her chair. At some point she'd tried to either break the chair or untie herself and managed to only tip herself over. Antonin used his wand to sit the woman back upright. If a look alone could kill, she and Antonin would've been dead the moment they stepped into her line of sight. Hermione had never seen the woman look so angry. Not even when she was using the Cruciatus Curse on her in the Ministry holding cell. She might've felt a tiny bit guilty about their plans for the woman if their history hadn't been filled with such unpleasantness. Antonin crossed over to Umbridge to remove her gag before they continued.

"I always knew you were a little whore willing to use those who were stronger than you to complete your dirty work," Umbridge spat. She tried to physically spit in Hermione's direction but a sharp backhanded slap from Antonin stilled her movements.

"I am very sorry about what happened that day in the Forbidden Forest," Hermione began. "It was a mistake that I will always regret."

"Yes, I just bet you can't live with yourself." Umbridge laughed in a high, cold pitch that made Hermione want to run out of the room. "You seem to like Death Eaters. Maybe I can arrange for you to be thrown into a _herd_ of angry Death Eaters. A little tit for tat, if you will."

"We all know that's not going to happen, Umbridge," answered Antonin.

"No, of course not. I know what you are here for. Neither of you can let me go because I will not rest until your little whore gets the punishment she deserves."

Antonin pointed his wand at the witch to send a moderate stinging hex to her abdomen. The woman gasped at the pain. Ignoring her cries, Antonin turned his body around to speak directly to Hermione.

"What do you want to do now, _daragaya_?"

She didn't know how to respond! She'd never tied a person to a chair for the purpose of murdering them! At a complete loss as to how to proceed, Antonin reached into the pocket of his trousers. He placed the same long, silver knife he'd shown her in Rabastan's library months before into her hand. Hermione stared at the instrument of torture for longer than she cared to admit to herself. The thought of slicing the woman's throat inch by inch had never seemed more appealing, but she knew she didn't have it in her to be so callous. She shook her head and handed the knife back. In its place Antonin placed an unfamiliar wand.

"It's untraceable," he whispered. "Would you like to repay her with the same _kindness_ she showed you while awaiting your farce of a trial?"

The prospect was attractive. More attractive than even she realized until she held the instrument of torture in her hand. She hadn't held a wand for months. It was easy to forget the power she was capable of wielding. She knew that regardless of whether or not she chose to torture the woman herself, Antonin wasn't going to simply strike the witch with a painless _Avada_. He was still livid that she'd been tortured after he'd caught her in Inverness. How many times had he mentioned to her that he wanted to torture the bitch? Too many to remember.

Hermione stood in front of the haughty woman with the abysmal fashion sense. Despite being about to face her death, Dolores Umbridge was surprisingly calm. Maybe the hours spent waiting down in the darkness hardened the witch. Maybe she was numb and terrified beyond the ability to think coherently. In the end, it didn't matter. The Minister for Magic would be looking for a new Senior Undersecretary before the week was out. Hermione pointed the wand in Umbridge's direction. Instead of showing fear, the hostage had the audacity to laugh in her face.

"You are a cruel, heartless, little bitch, but you don't have the stones to cast an Unforgivable," she taunted. "Too much of a noble Gryffindor."

Antonin leaned down to whisper in his witch's ear.

"You have to _mean_ it, Hermione. Remember what I told you."

A flash of every cruel act Umbridge committed during her fifth year at Hogwarts ran through Hermione's mind. She remembered the detentions her best friend endured where he was forced to carve "I must not tell lies" over and over into the back of his hand with her blasted Black Quill until the wounds scarred! Recalling her simpering, obnoxious face when she forced poor Harry to torture himself time and again, Hermione muttered a curse she'd been dreaming of using on the bitch for years. As the woman screamed in pain, Hermione heard Antonin gasp quietly behind her. Over every square centimeter of the woman's skin red and bloody words were deeply carved. _I must not tell lies_.

"I'm sure Harry would be proud to see your new face," Hermione spat at the still crying woman.

"Impressive spell," Antonin said. "You'll have to explain to me the story behind it later."

"Of course, dear." She didn't even recognize the chilling tone that was coming out of her mouth. What was happening to her?

"Are you going to kill me or just threaten me?"

Antonin slapped the woman once more across the face to shut her up. It was apparent that while she might not fear Hermione Granger, Antonin Dolohov was a completely different story. She knew his history. Knew his propensity to play with his food before he ate it. Her eyes were so focused on the wizard with the dark history that Dolores Umbridge paid no heed to the witch with the wand still pointed in her direction.

" _Crucio_!"

Hermione held her worst enemy under the pain of the torture curse for an eternity. Or so it seemed for both women. As the small cellar rang with the tormented cries of the Ministry official, Hermione found she could hardly breathe. While naturally not nearly as painful being the caster as the receiver, she didn't care for the lurching inside her stomach and the twisting pain inside her brain. Dark Magic was not only seeping out of her wand in Umbridge's direction but splashing back on her as well. It was easy to understand how a person could go mad from too much exposure to the curse. Even the ones running about the country casting the Unforgiveable on others weren't immune. After the longest several minutes of her life, Hermione dropped the wand to the floor. She couldn't bear to touch it any longer.

Umbridge was gasping and sobbing. At some point in the ordeal she'd emptied her stomach and her bowels. The sickening smell in the closeness of the space threatened to overpower the younger witch. She stared up into the darkened eyes of her wizard and silently begged him to take over. She couldn't handle anymore.

" _Avada kedavra_!"

In the end Dolores Umbridge met an ignominious end covered in her own bodily fluids in the non-descript basement of a renowned Death Eater. A powerful _incendio_ on her body in the back garden and a short walk to the ocean removed all traces that the horrible woman had ever existed. As Hermione drifted off to sleep hours later secure in her lover's arms, she feared that her life would never be the same again. Had she begun a journey down a path she could never return from?


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Antonin's nights had been plagued by demented nightmares since he was a very small child. Many nights found him screaming for his mother or begging his father to be allowed to climb in their large bed. Vadim Dolohov believed that children should learn from an early age that there was nothing to fear from their dreams. The large, somewhat terrifying man would always take his young son by the hand to lead him back to his own bed.

"You cannot be harmed by what is just in your head, little one. You must be brave."

His mother had always been more lenient and indulgent. There were plenty of nights that she would sneak into his room after he had a bad dream to rock him back to sleep. She'd done that for more years than he would ever admit to. The last time had been only a few years before he finished his schooling at Hogwarts. There were plenty of nights in the cold damp of Azkaban that he would have willingly sold his soul for one more embrace from his mama.

When he watched his witch closely the night before over the burning form of Dolores Umbridge, he knew to expect a night filled with unnerving and upsetting dreams. All of the watershed moments of his life had thus been afflicted. He had done the one thing he promised himself from the very beginning of his captivity of the young witch he would never do. He'd been unable to shield her from the harsh reality of their world. While he was more than aware of the fact that she had been exposed to cruelty and agony long before he ever wrapped his arms around her tiny waist, _he_ was the one responsible for exposing her the previous evening to her first murder. Yes, he was the one that ultimately uttered the incantation that ended the bitch's life, but she was every bit a player in the whole macabre game. Part of him wished that he could go back in time and dispatch the official long before he ever brought Hermione to the cottage to spare the girl the last bit of innocence she still possessed. The majority of him, however, knew that she needed to be a part of what happened to the woman.

His dreams had indeed been unsettling. Filled with images of the woman who had thoroughly stolen his heart long ago in various stages of torment while he stood by helpless to do anything to save her. He hated the dreams where he was useless. Some time after mid-morning he woke to the sun beating through the bedroom window straight into his eyes. Remembering the second session of frantic lovemaking they'd engaged in after he returned from unceremoniously dumping the ashes of Hermione's hated enemy out to sea, Antonin reached across the bed to verify that the more positive aspects of their previous night hadn't been merely hallucinations.

Hermione wasn't in bed. The indentation of her lithe, little body was clear on the mattress, but he found the empty spot had grown cold. A thousand different fears rushed through his head. What if she couldn't handle what happened? What if he had been successful in turning her away? There were wards around the property keeping others _out_ , but he'd assumed, perhaps naively, that the wards keeping Hermione _in_ would be unnecessary. Was she capable of shagging the sense out of him simply as a means for her to escape? He knew she had a vicious streak in her. Leading an enemy to her gang rape by a herd of infuriated centaurs proved that fact. Was she heartless enough to make the cynical wizard fall completely and utterly in love with her before ripping out his heart and running off to join the Resistance?

Antonin could feel his blood pressure rise with each fear. He rose from the bed intent to find out if he had been left behind. Only steps away from the end of his bed and the sound of the running water in the bathroom met his ears. He relaxed his fiercely beating heart when he caught sight of his witch's bare, delectable arse through the steamed up fog in the oversized shower. Determined not to waste another moment when the opportunity presented itself, Antonin removed his pajamas in record time. A loud gasp and a thud where a bottle of shampoo hit the floor of the shower greeted his appearance.

"Damn it, Antonin! You scared me," Hermione protested.

The wizard simply smiled as he greeted her with a kiss. For several heart pounding minutes the shampoo lay forgotten on the tile.

"Should I expect _every_ morning to be like this?" Hermione asked when they were both finally able to breathe normally again.

Antonin smirked, but didn't answer. Simply kissed her bare shoulder and picked up the shampoo.

"I suppose there are worse ways to start the day," she said, brushing her lips against his once more.

"There certainly are," he agreed.

The remainder of their collected shower passed rather quickly with their goal focused on cleansing their individual bodies instead of other more pleasurable activities. Antonin wrapped his shivering witch in a towel before exiting the bathroom to dress. She sat on the edge of their bed clad in nothing but the towel to watch him as he dressed for the day. A strange expression clouded her countenance, but when Antonin asked her about it, she shrugged his concerns off.

"Just a little tired," she replied, unconvincingly to say the least.

Antonin sat down next to her wearing only his trousers. He wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders to pull her to his bare chest. Hermione sank into the embrace.

"I know last night was a little…"

"I don't want to talk about it, Antonin," she said abruptly. Hermione rose from the bed to rummage through the bag she packed the night before. "Just please, respect my wishes on that."

"Of course."

Antonin wasted no time in dressing the rest of the way. He had several errands he had to run that day assuming the Dark Lord didn't want him for some as yet unknown reason.

"I'm returning to the manor to pick up our belongings and get Argos," Antonin announced.

Hermione walked him to the front door with assurances that she would be fine by herself for a little while. She already had plans to start arranging some of the furniture in the rooms that were complete. He could tell that his repeated questions asking her if she was all right were getting on her nerves.

With a final kiss to the young witch, Antonin Disapparated from outside the front door. His feet landed just outside the gates of the Lestrange Manor. The short walk to the main entrance to the manor was interrupted by an exuberant Argos. He was roaming the grounds when his excellent canine senses spotted the wizard who always hung around his human. Although his disappointment was palpable when Argos realized Hermione wasn't with him, the Saint Bernard was content to follow Antonin inside the large home waiting patiently for the moment he would be reunited with his human.

Antonin made a quick detour to the small dining room to see if Rabastan was up and eating. He wanted to know if there was any information about Umbridge's disappearance the night before that had made headlines in the morning edition. He didn't usually care to read the rag known as the Daily Prophet, but it could be useful. A swift perusal of the room showed no occupants. Deciding he would have plenty of time later to learn more about the supposed facts of the horrid woman's vanishing Antonin headed straight for his former bedroom with the canine hot on his heels.

It was almost noon when Antonin finally climbed the main staircase. The manor was eerily silent. Rabastan was hardly one for lie-ins if he was the only one present in his massive master's suite. Antonin shook his head to clear out all thoughts of Rabastan's nocturnal activities. He didn't want to know. Likely the wizard had already left the manor for the day. It was fairly late after all and there had been quite a bit of excitement the night before. He was passing the door to the infamous suite when it opened and a familiar witch exited.

"Good morning, Miss Black," Antonin greeted the woman. He attempted, most likely unsuccessfully, to hide his confusion at seeing Lucius' goddaughter emerging from Rabastan's bedroom.

"Good morning," she replied. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

The woman tilted her head to examine him. Antonin briefly felt the tiniest bit uncomfortable when the simper on her face gave him the feeling that the woman was imagining him without his clothing on. She certainly had changed since the last time they were in each other's presences. Did Lucius know about her jaunts over to Rabastan's? _Likely not_.

"Antonin Dolohov. We've met on many occasions."

She smirked at him once more, placed a hand on his elbow and rubbed his arm up to his shoulder. He couldn't help but be reminded of an intoxicated Alecto Carrow. That was one witch who always took too many liberties.

"I'm _certain_ I would've remembered meeting you before, Handsome."

Even the witch's voice sounded different than he remembered. _What in the Hell is going on_? He didn't appreciate the way the usually shy, reserved woman was suddenly assaulting his person. Her hand travelled from his shoulder down his chest. When it reached his stomach, he pushed her hand away none too gently. Her reaction was to simply laugh at his discomfort. Before he could make any of his concerns known, the door to the bedroom opened once more to reveal a disgustingly satisfied Rabastan.

"Antonin! What a surprise. I didn't expect you to be back so soon. Rosie told me that you and Hermione left late last night," he said, wrapping his arm around the witch's waist.

"Rabastan, dear, I was just chatting with your friend," Miss Black began. "Why did you not tell me you had such good-looking friends?"

Her eyes raked over Antonin's form again. She was behaving as if she were a completely different person. This was the woman who could hardly meet his eyes when they spoke at Lucius' home that first night? This was the woman who disregarded any fear for what he might do in response to her throwing up a powerful shield to protect Hermione and Thorfinn? There was something very strange going on and he resolved to get to the bottom of the mystery before he returned to his witch.

"I was afraid that if you knew about my associates, my dear, that you would be less interested in my bed," Rabastan answered before dropping his lips to her ear.

"You forget how large your bed is," she said, her eyes meeting Antonin's. "I daresay there is plenty of room for all of us."

Antonin couldn't believe what he was hearing. Both Rabastan and the witch began to laugh.

"You are a saucy, little minx, aren't you?" Rabastan chuckled. "Unfortunately, Isla, Antonin is a one-witch man and he has run off to play house with his."

"How disappointing," she replied.

"Rabastan, what the hell is going on here?" Antonin demanded. He was growing weary of the insinuations and the leers from the witch. "Is Lucius aware that she is here?"

They laughed again at his question.

"Lucius has been playing us all for fools for months, Antonin," explained Rabastan. "The woman who has been living with him alone in his manor is an imposter."

"How can that be?"

"We have are suspicions, don't we, my dear?"

"I think the asshole has been hiding some slut in his home using polyjuice potion," the _real_ Isla announced. "Unfortunately, his obsession with hair doesn't just extend to his own. He likes to keep locks of all of the women he's fucked. Or in my case, simply one he _wished_ he could fuck."

Antonin had a little trouble wrapping his mind around what they were saying. If the woman Lucius had been keeping in his manor wasn't his goddaughter, who was she? _Who_ was he hiding? More questions than answers.

"Remember when I told you that I wished to reacquaint myself with Eleanor?" Rabastan asked. "Well, after the party I sent her a letter with some wonderful photographs of the woman I assumed was her daughter. Imagine my surprise when Eleanor wrote back to say that I must be mistaken because her daughter hadn't been to Britain in years.

"Eleanor and I began a healthy correspondence from that day. Even began to exchange letters with her beautiful daughter. We decided last week that it was past time for us to make each other's acquaintance in person. Isla arrived late last night from America. That's how I knew you and Hermione left when you did. Rosie informed me shortly before Isla's arrival."

"But if _she's_ Isla, than who…"

"Who is Lucius hiding?" Isla completed Antonin's sentence for him. "That's what we would like to know."

"Isla and I are planning a visit to Lucius' this evening to uncover his secret once and for all. You are welcome to join us, of course."

Antonin would rather be just about anywhere than there. Something about Eleanor's daughter got under his skin. Maybe she was a daft slag just like her mother. He didn't appreciate the way her eyes continued to move up and down his body. If Rabastan was serious about taking this woman for his wife, he was going to need to pursue some serious fidelity charms to keep his wife from bringing home the wrong wizard's baby.

"No, thank you. I'm just going to get all of our belongings and take the dog back to Hermione."

"Thank Merlin!" exclaimed Rabastan. "I cannot wait to be free from that bloody mongrel!"

The couple made their excuses to head down to the dining room. They must have had every bit as late an evening as he and Hermione had though likely, their evening had less murder and gore. Argos was content to trot behind his human's mate. Somehow the intelligent dog knew that he was the key to getting back into Hermione's loving arms.

Antonin was pleased to find several trunks packed and waited for him inside their former guest suite. After a cursory examination of the space, he decided it was likely that the elves didn't miss anything. He employed several charms to shrink and lighten the trunks enough that everything fit easily into the pocket of his travelling cloak.

He ignored the shrill, feminine laughter he could hear coming down the corridor from the dining room. Argos pawed at the front door, anxious to remove himself from the ancestral home of the Lestranges every bit as much as the wizard. They stopped at the gates for Antonin to do some more spellwork. A lightening spell reduced Argos' one hundred and seventy five pounds of fur, fat and drool down to a manageable few pounds. Before he picked the dog up to prepare for Apparation, he made certain to cast a dog hair repelling charm on his clothes. Just because his witch loved the beast didn't mean he had to be covered in his fur. Argos was more than a little excited to be picked up by the wizard. Not for the first time Antonin realized that the dog was highly intelligent and capable of understanding humans a great deal more clearly than he could understand dogs.

Argos 'woofed' at the front door of the cottage when the Apparation was completed. He didn't seem perturbed by the unpleasant sensations at all. When Hermione threw open the front door the animal launched himself at the petite wizard. Thankfully, for Hermione's sake, the spell hadn't worn off just yet and instead of knocking her over, he simply startled her.

"You were gone longer than I expected you to be," Hermione said, greeting her wizard with a quick peck. "Everything all right at the manor?"

He couldn't be sure exactly why he felt reluctant to mention what happened when he went to Rabastan's. The entire episode was still swirling around his brain causing his head to hurt. There had been way too much in the past forty-eight hours. He desperately hoped that soon he would be able to spend several days alone with his witch in their new home.

"As well as can be expected," he answered. It wasn't exactly a lie.

Hermione helped him remove the parcels from the inside of his cloak pocket. When their trunks and other belongings were laid out on their bed, he used a quick spell to enlarge them all to their normal sizes. She wasted no time in opening them up to start putting their clothing away.

"Look, Antonin. Rabastan had the elves make us up a basket. There's a note."

 _My Dear Hermione,_

 _While I am not sure why you felt the need to leave my humble abode so abruptly and without warning in the middle of the night, I refuse to take the action personally. No doubt our mutual acquaintance simply was looking forward to having his gorgeous little witch all to himself. (I certainly cannot blame him for that.) Antonin mentioned that the kitchen in your new home was not yet finished. I would_ hate _for all of Rosie's hard work in plumping your stunning figure back to pre-war curviness to go to waste. Enclosed you will find at least a week's worth of meals under powerful stasis charms. If Antonin hasn't been able to procure a completed kitchen or a house elf that can work miracles by the end of the week, please come visit me for another basket. You may choose to bring Antonin if you would like._

 _With all of my affection,_

 _R.L._

"He can be surprisingly thoughtful when he wants to be," Hermione said, handing the note over to Antonin.

"Don't be fooled, _daragaya_. He always has an agenda."

Antonin crumpled up the note and tossed it back into the basket. While he couldn't deny that Rabastan's actions _were_ thoughtful and he also couldn't deny that the fact that he had no way to feed his witch didn't cross his mind the night before, he was still rattled by his earlier interactions with Rabastan and his new house guest. He briefly considered telling Hermione what happened, but something stopped him.

He would _never_ be best mates with Lucius Malfoy. That would simply never happen. There was too much bad history between the two. Despite all of that, Antonin couldn't help but be a bit worried about the implications of a polyjuiced woman being found inside his manor. If this would only affect Lucius, he wouldn't lift a finger. Whoever the girl actually was needed to be warned. He liked her. Found her to be charming and just a tad naïve. Something about the young woman plucked at his heart strings. Even not knowing her true identity, he felt an obligation to, at the very least, warn her that Rabastan would be coming by to expose their deception.

"Will you be all right if I leave again for a short time?" he asked.

Hermione looked up from the basket she was unpacking. She furrowed her brow.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he lied. "Just remembered an errand I need to run. Will you and Argos be all right until I return?"

She leaned up to kiss him.

"We'll be fine. I'll just get us unpacked. Probably won't even notice you're gone."

"When I get back we can take Argos down to the beach."

Her entire face brightened at the prospect.

"Oh, he would _love_ that! So would I."

Antonin kissed her once more before leaving the bedroom. The dog followed him out to the front door. Feeling silly while he did so, Antonin turned to the dog and told him to keep an eye on his mistress. The wizard laughed to himself when Argos sat up straighter. Almost as if he was a soldier reporting for duty. He felt mollified knowing that if for some unknown reason an intruder made it past his extensive wards, the dog would rip their throat out before allowing any harm to come to Hermione.

His thoughts turned to Wiltshire in preparation for yet another jaunt across the country. He couldn't understand how Muggles survived being unable to travel as swiftly as wizards. The journey was complete before he was even sure how he was going to break the news to Lucius or even how he was going to bring the subject up. This was a delicate conversation he needed to have. The early afternoon sun was beating down on his shoulders for several moments before he plucked up the fortitude to pass the gates into the Malfoy estate grounds. Part of him was secretly surprised that Lucius hadn't altered the gates to prevent him from being able to enter without his permission. Seemed like the petty act he would be capable of.

"Mr. Dolohov, good afternoon. What a surprise."

He was greeted by a warm and smiling imposter. The witch parading around as Isla Black-Fawley stood in the front doorway to welcome her guest. The closer Antonin got to the door, the more he became aware that Lucius was nowhere to be found.

"I'm sorry to just drop in like this, Miss Black, but I really need to speak with Lucius," he said. "It's imperative."

The smile dropped from her face.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Mr. Dolohov, but Lucius isn't here right now," she explained. "He's away for the day and isn't expected to return until late tonight."

He couldn't leave this woman, whoever she was, alone to face the consequences of Rabastan's unscheduled visit to the manor that evening. He wasn't sure why he cared what happened, but he did. Antonin stepped up the front steps closer to the door. "Miss Black" gestured at him to enter.

"Then I suppose I will need to speak to you directly," he said. "Is there somewhere we can go to speak privately?"

If she was nervous, she didn't show it.

"Everywhere in the manor is private, Mr. Dolohov. I'm completely alone."

"You _really_ shouldn't admit to that, Miss Black," he continued. "It's not safe. I mean you no harm, but it's not wise to let others who might drop by unannounced to know you are unprotected."

"I'm _never_ unprotected, Mr. Dolohov. Thank you for your concern, but I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. If an unsavory wizard I did not trust came walking up the front drive, I have all the means necessary to keep myself barricaded inside this manor until reinforcements arrived."

She smiled at him and he wondered at her statement. Was she saying that she trusted him when she didn't trust others? Surely Lucius had given her a history lesson on what he was capable of. He would've done so if the tables were turned. In fact, he'd let Hermione know many details of some of Lucius' past misdeeds when he felt it was pertinent she understand he was a dangerous wizard even without a Mark on his arm.

"You perhaps are a bit too trusting," he replied.

"I've been accused of that many times before, I assure you, but I trust my instincts. They have yet to steer me wrong."

While they were speaking the young witch led him into Lucius' spacious study. Two large dogs lifted their heads from the floor to examine the new arrival. Sensing that he was of no great interest, they both laid back down in front of the fireplace. He sat on one end of the comfortable leather sofa and the imposter sat on the other. They stared at each other for a couple of awkward minutes without speaking.

"There's no easy way to say this," Antonin finally blurted out. "I know you aren't really Isla Black-Fawley."

The woman exhaled deeply making a loud whistling sound. She didn't seem the least bit frightened or unnerved by his statement.

"I always knew we weren't going to be able to keep this charade up forever," she said. "Lucius was confident that we could keep it up longer than this, however. What happened? How did you figure it out?"

"I stopped by the Lestrange Manor this morning and ran into the _real_ Miss Black."

"Bugger."

The woman summoned a tea kettle from the fireplace with her wand. She filled it with an _aguamenti_ charm and banished it back to hang over the fire. A tray filled with a teapot, teacups, and an assortment of biscuits floated across the room to hover between them. Antonin could hardly stand it that she was occupying her time by silently preparing them tea! He expected her to be a bit more out of sorts at the knowledge that someone else knew her secret.

"How do you take your tea?"

He was certain he must look like a fish gaping at her the way he was. When the kettle began to whistle, the woman summoned it back to her and used another charm to pour the boiling water into the waiting teapot to steep.

"Rabastan is planning on coming by this evening to confront you both," Antonin explained a few minutes later when the unwanted cup of tea was pushed into his hands.

"I'm not surprised that he is the one who discovered our secret. Nosy, little arse, isn't he? This was all supposed to be temporary. Lucius and I both knew I couldn't stay here forever like this, but it grew so… _comfortable_. I didn't want to leave and he didn't seem to be in any hurry to kick me out."

"Who are you really, miss?"

"Will you allow me to send an owl before I tell you all of my secrets, Mr. Dolohov? There is someone else who should be here for this."

He couldn't argue with the woman even though his curiosity only grew. She scratched out a quick note for her tawny owl to deliver before sitting back down on the sofa. They sat in silence once more sipping their tea and nibbling on biscuits. Antonin grew antsy enough that he was unable to still the bouncing of his leg. It was a nervous tic that he had never been able to quite control.

"Our guest hopefully will not be much longer," she said with a smile, offering Antonin a plate of biscuits.

"Who are we expecting?"

She simply smiled but did not answer the question. When twenty minutes or so had passed since the owl flew out the study window, their senses were assaulted by the sounds of the intruder alarms going off. The witch rose from her seat on the sofa to open the front door. Intensely curious, Antonin followed without invitation.

"Thank you for coming at such short notice, Mr. Rowle," she greeted.

Thorfinn's eyes landed on Antonin's moments after he stepped through the front door. Both wizards were confused by the other's presence.

"What is he doing here?" Antonin demanded.

"I could ask the same question!" retorted Thorfinn.

"Please come join us in the study, Mr. Rowle. I have some lovely tea prepared."

Neither wizard moved an inch from their spots in the entrance hall. When she realized she wasn't being followed, the witch crossed back over to stand in front of Thorfinn.

"Miss Black, I must admit that I was very _surprised_ by your invitation to join you for tea," Thorfinn said. "I thought it would be rude of me to not answer your reply in person. While I believe you are a very _lovely_ witch, my affections lie elsewhere."

Antonin knew _exactly_ where Thorfinn's affections lie. Both wizards had their wands out and ready to strike the other in moments. A familiar shield was thrown up between the two preventing any bloodshed. The fake Miss Black shielded them both with ease. She seemed unconcerned by the duel that almost took place under her watch.

"While I appreciate the 'lovely' comment, Mr. Rowle, I most certainly did _not_ invite you here for some illicit liaison."

Neither wizard missed the way she briefly shuddered at the thought. Antonin couldn't hide a smirk knowing that here was another witch not interested in the younger wizard's affections.

"I beg you both to trust me for a little while longer," she continued. "I'm going to lower the shield and ask that you both put your wands away."

Both men reluctantly complied with her request.

"I trust you, Mr. Dolohov, because of the love you have for Hermione," she explained. "It's easy to see in your eyes that you would do anything to keep that lovely girl protected. I noticed that the night we met. Thank you for caring for her."

"Of course." He didn't know what else to say.

"Lucius' grandson was born in the manor last night. The mother was smuggled out of the Umbridge Home during the raid. Lucius is taking them both on a Muggle train today to elude the Ministry. I'm not sure where their final destination is, but he's handing them over to some trusted friends in Liverpool."

Antonin turned his eyes towards a bewildered Thorfinn. Why on Earth was she admitting these secrets in front of this man? He was a Death Eater too!

"Miss, you shouldn't admit to so much in mixed company."

"Oh, him?" She pointed over to Thorfinn with her thumb. "I trust him with my life. He won't say anything."

Both men made eye contact again at the strange statement. Neither one understood what the woman was going on about.

"I was protecting Thorfinn the night of the party," she said. "I was afraid that after all of the drama that was happening in the library that no one would consider his safety. You will forgive me for saying so, Mr. Dolohov, but you had murder in your eyes. I knew I was his only hope.

"I conjured a special rope and used the ascendio charm to get to the third floor before you could. Knowing what I know about _his_ history, I figured it would be best to throw up a shield before he could be attacked in the heat of the moment. You were just a few moments behind me. I almost wasn't successful."

"That shield was impressive," Antonin conceded. "I've never seen one powerful enough to block that spell. How did you do it?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"I've always been pretty good with charms."

"Why did you even bother?" Thorfinn asked. "You didn't know me. Not well enough anyway to put yourself in so much danger. Dolohov could've easily turned his wrath on you if Rabastan and Lucius hadn't arrived when they did."

"Trust me for a few more minutes, Finnie."

The simple diminutive name coming out of the woman's mouth sent Thorfinn into a rage. Antonin was surprised by how quickly his pale complexion turned bright red with fury. He had his wand out and pointed at the strange woman in seconds. Fearing for the girl's safety, Antonin turned his wand on Thorfinn. She simply held up two empty hands to show she was unarmed.

"No one is allowed to call me that!" he screamed.

The air in the entrance hall grew thick with tension. Both wizards continued to hold their wands out ready to curse if necessary. The woman stood there on the wrong end of Rowle's wand calmly holding her hands up in the air. Antonin wasn't sure how long they stood like that. It couldn't have been very long because he had almost been in the manor for an hour by that point.

"What the…" Thorfinn began.

Right before their eyes the fake Isla Black-Fawley began to transform back into her usual body. Antonin was expecting the change, but Thorfinn was thrown off guard completely by the changing of her features. Her petite frame quickly grew several inches until she was only a few inches shorter than Antonin. Her dark brown curly hair straightened and lightened to a pale blonde. Her eyes became a beautiful, haunting blue. When all of the shifting was finally complete, Reina Rowle stood in front of her befuddled brother.

"Reinie?"

The large blonde almost fainted when the pretty young woman nodded her head. His wand fell from his hands. He took two giant steps forward to clasp the girl in his beefy arms. Antonin felt out of place watching the embrace between the siblings. Both were openly crying with relief. He tried to push the thoughts of the last time he'd seen the poor girl out of his head. It was no wonder she had been in hiding since her release from the dungeons of the school. After several minutes of reassuring himself that his sister was indeed alive, Thorfinn set the girl down on her feet.

"Reinie, please tell me what the _fuck_ you are doing here with Lucius Malfoy?" he demanded.

"That's a long story, big brother."

"We have time."

She led both men back into the study. This time, instead of offering tea, she poured both men and herself a liberal glass of fire whiskey. Some discussions went beyond a simple cup of tea. When both men were settled on opposite ends of the sofa and she was seated in a large armchair, she began her story.

"After I was released from Hogwarts, I didn't know where to go. Forgive me, Finnie, but I _really_ didn't want to see you."

"I understand." Her brother dropped his watery blue eyes to the rug where both dogs were still sleeping soundly.

"I was wandering around Hogsmeade for a few days until a member of my House found me. Do you remember Calliope Smith?"

Thorfinn shook his head.

"Name sounds familiar."

Reina rolled her eyes.

"She was a couple of years behind you in school. You spent most of your last year shagging her all over the castle."

"Oh, yeah, I remember her. She still hot?"

"She's married and pregnant with her third child."

" _Happily_ married?"

"You're such a pig!"

Thorfinn's younger sister groaned before continuing her story. Antonin felt a little bit like an outsider during this discussion, but no one suggested that he wasn't welcome.

"Calliope knew someone who knew someone who knew Angelina Johnson. Anyway, she was able to get a message to Angie that I needed a safe place to lay low for a while. She brought me here."

Thorfinn and Antonin both narrowed their eyes at this new source of information.

"Lucius has been aiding the rebels?" Antonin asked.

"I would think that was obvious, Mr. Dolohov. I already told you that he is smuggling his grandson and future daughter-in-law out of the country," she answered, obviously annoyed with his question. "It doesn't matter that you both know now anyway. It's obvious that Lucius and I will both need to go underground for the foreseeable future."

"I'm not comfortable with you being alone with Lucius Malfoy, Reina," Thorfinn added.

"It's not your decision," she replied. "Lucius has been with me through quite a bit and has been an enormous help to me. I won't forget that."

"So you're shagging him?" Thorfinn demanded.

"No! We're not. Thank you for your vote of confidence, big brother."

Antonin wanted to make his excuses to leave. He had his answer about the true identity of the woman living in Lucius' manor. He had also been able to convey his warning that Rabastan was aware of their subterfuge. This conversation was quickly becoming a family matter that he didn't feel he should be privy to.

"I've seen the way he looks at you," Thorfinn shot back. "I've seen how you two interact when I've been here with Rabastan. It's obvious that there is more to your relationship."

"We care about each other," she answered. "A great deal, but no, we aren't _shagging_. I mean, it's not for lack of trying on my part, but he…"

"Oi! I don't want to hear that."

"So it's perfectly acceptable for you to demand to know if he and I are shagging, but it's not all right for me to say that I was the one to try to initiate? You can't have it both ways, Finnie."

Antonin didn't even attempt to hide his smirk. He liked Reina Rowle. Since meeting her the first night at Lucius' manor in her disguise, he'd been intrigued by the young witch. He'd always like spirited women. They made life much more interesting. His thoughts turned to his own witch and he smiled. Hermione would be very glad to hear that Reina had been found and was doing so well.

"When I came to the manor I was out of my mind," Reina admitted. "Unfortunately, you both understand why. Lucius was worried about me. Tried to keep an eye on me at all times, but even he has to sleep sometimes. I waited until after he'd gone to bed and checked at the keyhole to make sure he was asleep before I slipped out of the manor.

"I broke into the shed where they have their racing brooms. It was raining really hard that night and it was freezing. I don't know what I was hoping would happen. Just climbed on the broom and started flying around the grounds. I was only about twenty feet above the ground when I started to slip. I could've changed course and flown to the ground. I could've even used a few charms to keep myself from falling off, but I chose not to.

"Lucius found me lying in the gardens. I'd broken my wrist and was miscarrying."

Antonin was impressed by the lack of tears falling from the young woman's eyes as she told the horrific story. Thorfinn was as white as a ghost, but Reina was resolute. Likely she had already cried all she was willing or able to cry over the accident and the events leading up to the accident.

"Some alarm had gone off when I broke into the shed. He'd woken up instantly and knew what I was doing. Came running out the manor as fast as he could barefoot and in his pajamas. He saved my life. The healer that he brought in secret said that if he hadn't found me when he did, I could've lost too much blood to survive.

"Naturally since that evening, he's been extremely overprotective of me. Won't let me out of his sight for longer than a few minutes. I swear he puts wards on my bedroom so I can't sneak out for a midnight snack without him being aware. He saved me, Finnie, and he also helped me to see that there's so much left for me to live for. I didn't realize how broken I was after… well, after everything."

"I'm sorry to say that it will no longer be safe for you to remain here, Miss Rowle," Antonin said.

"I know. This was all supposed to be temporary anyway. Just until I regained my strength, but…"

"You fell in love with Lucius."

Reina smiled at Antonin.

"Yes, I did."

"You aren't concerned that he's taking advantage of you in your situation?" inquired her older brother. He obviously didn't appreciate the conclusion that Antonin drew from his sister's story.

"Lucius has been nothing but a perfect gentleman, Thorfinn."

He seemed just a little mollified by her assurance that there wasn't anything untoward in Lucius Malfoy's behavior.

"Come with me, Finnie."

"What?"

"Come with me when I go into hiding. I have friends. We can keep you safe too."

"Absolutely not!" he protested. "If I try to go into hiding, I'll be found and anyone who helped me would be in serious trouble. I couldn't bear to be the one responsible for your death, Reina. It's too much. Especially after everything I'm responsible for already."

Antonin rose from the sofa to make his excuses. He was intruding in a private conversation between two siblings. This was family business that he had no part of. Kissing Reina on the cheek, he made her promise that she would be out of the manor as soon as physically possible. In the spirit of goodwill, he even shook Thorfinn's hand. Perhaps seeing him reunited with his sister was enough for them to start the process of moving on from their differences.

He walked alone to the manor gates, ready to finally give Hermione some good news.

* * *

 _Author's Note: My plan was to have this out last night since I was doing nothing but handing out candy to trick or treaters, but after too much wine and Thorfinn's weight in Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, I failed. Thanks for being so patient with me!_

 _Thanks for all of the reviews! I appreciate and love every single one of them! Thanks also for all of the new Favorites and Followers. You're all awesome._


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Argos settled into the cottage in no time to Hermione's intense amusement. The moment Antonin Disapparated the large dog began his thorough examination of his new home. It all met with his approval except for the cellar. He stood at the top of the stairs to whine, but never made it past the first step. Something unnerved him about the space. Hermione could sympathize with the animal. Following the events of the previous evening in the lower level of the cottage it would be some time, if ever, that she could spend a peaceful moment in the room where Dolores Umbridge experienced her last.

He preferred to spend his time exploring the attic to sniff all of the unpacked boxes Antonin banished there for the time being. Argos whined a bit when he saw the unfinished state of the kitchen. No doubt he was worried where his next meal would come from. The door in the bedroom that led to the back garden drew his attention as well. After sitting at the door scratching to be let out, Hermione took the dog out to enjoy the warm sunshine. It only took him a few sniffs around the garden to satisfy his curiosity. Hermione followed him back inside with a laugh. Argos remained in the bedroom where he would see Hermione at all times while she finished unpacking their trunks,

She enjoyed the temporary respite from her darker thoughts as she undertook the domestic task of filling their shared closet with their clothes. She'd grown used to spending a great deal of her time alone since the war ended. Certainly those nine months on the run had been intensely lonely from time to time. Living in Rabastan's manor had been full of terrible moments, but she'd found some comfort in hearing the other inhabitants and frequent guests moving around the sprawling house. Being alone in her seaside cottage would take some adjustment. While the sound of the waves crashing against the shore was soothing, she couldn't fight the overwhelming sense of melancholy that washed over her at the realization that for the first time since Inverness she was completely alone again.

Her eyes crossed over to the open window overlooking the ocean. Antonin had truly been able to find a breathtaking home for them. She knew she was stronger than she had been when he captured her in January. Not only physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. When she wasn't consumed with fears for her safety and thoughts of her survival, she had the time to begin the long process of healing. She could finally see that there was still some beauty left in their world, something still worth saving.

She missed her boys. There would always be that ache, that part of her heart that would always be broken. _What would they think if they could see me now?_ she wondered. Could they forgive her for hiding in the shadows for so long? For almost giving up time and time again? Would they be able to understand the strange relationship she had with her protector?

Her cheeks flushed at the thought of Antonin claiming her on the hard living room floor the night before. And then in their freshly made bed. And then that morning in the shower. She felt certain that they wouldn't understand how her relationship had progressed. They'd likely believe her to be some kind of traitor, or worse, some Death Eater's whore. Hot tears fell from her eyes at the thought of trying to explain to Harry, or god, _Ron_ , what she was playing at with a man who'd been intent on her death multiple times. It was all too bizarre to contemplate.

She could feel her eyes begin to prickle with even more tears as her mind began travelling down evermore dark and disturbing corridors. Her hands continued moving the clothes from their trunks to the closet without her mind fully being aware of her actions. It was a task that needed no brainpower to complete, giving herself the freedom to dwell on all of the fears and worries that were threatening to consume her entirely.

When she felt arms wrap around her waist from behind, she almost screamed. Antonin's lips brushed against the top of her head in the same movement. He could sense he frightened her when her body tensed at the contact.

"I'm sorry, _daragaya_ ," he whispered. "I thought you heard me come in. I called out your name a few times."

Hermione spun around in his embrace to smile at her wizard. She brushed her lips against his in greeting and placed a hand on his cheek.

"Nothing to be sorry about," she assured him. "I was in my own little world."

She dropped her hand from his face and turned her attention back to the task of unpacking. Antonin sat on the end of the bed, his dark brown eyes watching her every move. Hermione wasn't sure why she suddenly felt so ill at ease in his presence. She was used to the intense way he watched her. Their entire relationship shifted the night before and the manner in which his eyes examined her no longer felt so innocent.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked after several silent minutes.

She tried to assure him with another bright smile that she was just fine, but Antonin was an intelligent and observant man. He could spot a liar. Hermione felt more and more exposed the longer his gaze lingered on her.

"Did you accomplish what you needed done?" Hermione inquired as a means to hopefully distract the wizard.

"Yes, I did," Antonin answered. "I'm sorry I was gone as long as I was. It took me a bit longer than I expected."

Part of her wanted to know where he was and what he had been doing, but she knew better. If he could desecrate their own home with his violence, what was he capable of outside? Hermione placed a hanger holding her favorite set of Antonin's robes on the rod in the closet. Her hands smoothed down the non-existent creases in an effort to keep herself further distracted. Hadn't she learned already in her life that there was such a thing as too much knowledge?

"Hermione…"

She dropped her hands to her sides at the mention of her name. Before she had a chance to turn around to face the man, he was standing behind her again. Antonin placed both of his large hands on each of her hips. He carefully pulled her body back to lie against his chest. As he always did when faced with the opportunity, he lowered his face into her wild curls. They both took comfort in the simple affectionate gesture.

"I'm just feeling a little down," she explained.

"Understandable."

"And I'm angry with myself for feeling down."

"Also understandable."

"I was thinking about my friends and wondered if…"

She couldn't complete her thought. Instead she just closed her eyes and groaned. Antonin slipped his arms around her waist to pull her even closer.

"And you wondered if your friends would still care about you if they saw you again."

His words surprised her and his perceptiveness astounded her. How did he always seem to know what she was thinking?

"Sometimes I wonder the same thing about my mum," he announced, thoroughly shocking her once more. "My father wouldn't be surprised to know how my life turned out. He was from a well-respected family of dark wizards. The Dolohovs were staunch supporters of Grindelwald. He was just a few years too young to really get involved, but all of his older brothers were either killed because of their loyalties or forced into exile. Most of my cousins live in America,

"My father saw the same power and potential in the Dark Lord. He was one his first and most loyal followers. I was just a small boy the first time I was brought to the Dark Lord's attention. Promised as it were from the cradle into his service."

"So you never had a choice?"

"We _always_ have a choice."

Antonin kissed the top of her head.

"But my mum never really understood what we did," he continued. "Father and I tried to shield her from the horrors we faced, the horrors we committed. It was better that she not know. Safer for her to live in ignorance.

"But I wonder if she'd still love me as fiercely as she did if she knew what her son was guilty of."

"She's your mum. Of course she would still love you."

"So if she would still love me after all of my many crimes, how can you worry that your friends wouldn't still love you? I can assure you that what you are guilty of doesn't come anywhere _near_ what I'm guilty of."

He released his hold on her body. With a final kiss to her forehead he disappeared into the bathroom to give her a few moments of sorely needed privacy. She rolled his words around in her head during his absence. While he made some valid points, her logical mind couldn't help but speculate that nothing could be that simple. If Harry or Ron were alive and found out that she was not only living with a dangerous Death Eater, but also willingly _shagging_ one… She shook her head to knock those upsetting thoughts out.

"How about we take Argos down to the beach now?" Antonin suggested when he walked out of the bathroom. "We could all use some fresh air."

Only minutes later Hermione was walking next to Antonin on the sandy shore while Argos happily ran several yards ahead of them. Antonin was a man who didn't always have to speak. It was a trait that Hermione had come to appreciate in her time with the wizard. Most people, herself included, struggled with the constant need to fill up silences that didn't always need to be filled up. He had slowly been teaching her the value of just sitting quietly. They walked along the beach just enjoying the scenery and the warm weather. Their conversation from earlier didn't need to be revisited. Her fears could be discussed later.

She slipped her hand into Antonin's. Initially surprised by the gesture, Antonin smiled down at the young witch. He squeezed her hand in response and they both turned their attention to the massive Saint Bernard enjoying his first day at the seashore. Argos was overjoyed to have a beach full of new scents to discover. His nose was on the ground sniffing out the good spots. Occasionally a seagull would fly near him and he would take off running after the frightened bird with his tongue happily lolling out the side of his mouth. He made an amusing spectacle for the two lovers to watch.

"You don't think he'll try to kill them and eat them, do you?" Antonin asked, laughing at the clumsy dog unsuccessfully chasing a bird.

"No, he's a gentle giant. He wouldn't hurt them," Hermione answered. "Besides, I get the feeling he doesn't understand he's capable of hunting his own meals. If it doesn't come already prepared in his bowl, he doesn't know it's food."

The wizard laughed at her explanation. It was a moot question as the bird easily outmaneuvered the dog still learning how to run on the unsteady surface of sand. Hermione hoped that she was right. If he did somehow manage to catch and consume a bird, she was pretty sure it would end up somewhere on the floor of their new home and she didn't want to contemplate the clean-up.

"Are you feeling any better now?" Antonin asked, stopping long enough to supplement his question with a tender kiss to his witch's lips.

"Yes, I think so. Just been a strange couple of days."

"Yes, it has been."

"I'm very thankful to be out of the manor. I wasn't sure I was going to make it there much longer."

It wasn't a lie. After the events of the party, after shamelessly throwing herself at Thorfinn and the abject humiliation of everything that came after, Hermione knew she wouldn't be able to stand living in the manor without going mad. She could already feel the walls begin to close in around her the longer she stayed. The previous month had been spent almost entirely outside on the grounds with Argos. Her one refuge, the library, had been irrevocably tainted by the blasted Carrows. She couldn't even venture down that corridor without flashbacks of pulling Thorfinn down the hallway by his robes. It was embarrassing. She was certain that she would never be able to look Rowle in the eyes again. At least living in the cottage she was unlikely to ever run into him unexpectedly. She didn't imagine Antonin would be inviting Thorfinn over for dinner anytime soon.

"I'm very sorry that you were so miserable there, Hermione. Believe me when I say that I never wanted that to be a long term solution. We were only ever supposed to be there temporary."

"It doesn't matter now, does it?" She smiled up at the man. "We have a beautiful cottage by the sea with no pesky, annoying roommates."

"You won't miss Rabastan and all of his thinly veiled sexual innuendos?" He asked, raising a single eyebrow in mock seriousness.

"Not in the slightest. He was starting to repeat himself and starting to be less creative. I was beginning to be embarrassed for him."

Antonin laughed loudly enough to scare away a seagull taunting Argos. Deciding that the dog was of no threat, the gull had been flying repeatedly close to his head and no doubt chuckling in glee when it flew out of his reach. The sound of Antonin's mirth was enough to throw the bird and Argos off kilter. Hermione loved the sound. She pulled on his arm to snuggle closer to his side. He leaned down to kiss her between laughs.

"We need to talk about something rather serious, I'm afraid," he said when the laughter died down. Hermione's eyes widened. He attempted to reassure her by kissing her head again. "Nothing that dire, _daragaya_."

"Is this related to what you were doing when you left?"

"Yes. This morning when I went back to Rabastan's I didn't see anyone in the manor. It seemed odd to me, but I didn't think too much on it. I went up the stairs to our old room and as I passed Rabastan's suite a witch exited."

"Which slag was it? I can never keep up with them."

"Isla Black-Fawley."

Hermione stopped walking. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. He had to have misunderstood what he was seeing. She'd spent a little bit of time with the witch and she was certainly not Rabastan's type. Privately and with Antonin, she suspected that she and Lucius were harboring some rather strong feelings for each other.

"I don't believe it."

"I'm afraid it's true, but there's more," he continued. "She didn't even seem to recognize me. Acted like we'd never met before and then she…"

"She what?"

"Propositioned me."

His discomfort at admitting was happened was endearing. Hermione fought the urge to giggle at his obvious reluctance to share this part of the story with her, but again, it sounded unrealistic. Miss Black was shy, almost unbearably so. What would cause her personality to suddenly change?

"When Rabastan came out of the room she invited me to join them in bed."

"And you said?" She couldn't resist teasing him in the moment.

"I said 'no'! What do you take me for, Hermione?!"

Her giggles placated him for a moment before he rolled his eyes and continued the story.

"I demanded to know what she was doing in his room and asked if Lucius knew that she was there. They both just laughed. Apparently, the witch we met at Lucius' home and the one who quite literally saved Thorfinn's arse the night of the party isn't the _real_ Isla Black-Fawley."

"What do you mean? Who is she then?"

"They weren't sure. After the party Rabastan started writing her mother. Her daughter came over from America the same night we left. They were planning on going to Lucius' manor tonight to confront him."

"What do you think will happen to her?"

Hermione was concerned for the witch even if she was posing as someone she wasn't. There had to be a reason for the deception.

"Hopefully nothing if she took my advice and got out in time."

"Wait, what? You know who it is?"

"Yes, after I brought Argos home I decided I had to go warn Lucius and whoever his guest was. Don't ask me why. I don't know. I'm sure I will live to regret that decision.

"When I got to Lucius' she was alone. I told her that I knew she wasn't who she said she was and she didn't seem bothered at all by the revelation. Said that she told Lucius they wouldn't be able to keep the charade up indefinitely. She begged me to wait a little bit longer until she could send an owl to someone else."

As usual, Hermione had about a thousand questions for the man. She knew that he was trying to tell the story as rapidly as he could, but it didn't stop her from wanting to interrupt. At one point she had to physically bit her bottom lip to prevent herself from shouting out several questions in quick succession.

"She served me tea while we waited. About twenty minutes later Thorfinn showed up."

"Thorfinn? Why would she write…"

The pieces started to click together.

"It was really Reina, wasn't it?" Hermione asked.

A short nod from Antonin confirmed her suspicion.

"Were they using Polyjuice? Why was Lucius hiding her?"

"Yes, and I'm not exactly sure why. Miss Rowle admitted that Lucius was helping to smuggle his new grandson and his mother out of the country. She outted Lucius as a member of the Resistance. They're both going to have to disappear now."

They resumed their walk down the beach in silence for a short time as Hermione absorbed all that she was just told. She knew that Lucius was a friend to the Resistance. Draco admitted it in the cellar that night at the manor. She started to open her mouth to tell Antonin that she already knew except it would put Draco in potential danger as well. Antonin was intelligent enough to connect the dots, but she wasn't about to give him any more information. He was still a Death Eater, after all.

"I told Miss Rowle and Thorfinn that she was too trusting."

"Yeah, she's always been a bit strange," Hermione replied. "Don't misunderstand me. She's very sweet. Always has been. I even told Thorfinn that I still had trouble believing they were related. If she wanted to, she could probably earn her Mastery in Charms fairly easily, but she's never been very interested or strong in other subjects. I remember thinking it strange that she could tutor other students in Charms, but she couldn't tell you the difference between Devil's Snare and a Venomous Tentacula."

Antonin snorted, an indelicate habit of Hermione's that was starting to rub off on him.

"Not everyone can cram as much knowledge into their brains as you can."

"I always thought it odd. She was a member of the Dueling Club that Professor Snape created the year after the dismal failure of the first in my second year. She was a fair duelist from all accounts I heard, but she could hardly pass her other classes. I always thought she was a bit flighty."

"She begged her brother to go into hiding with her."

"I take it that Thorfinn said no. He doesn't strike me as the type to go into hiding."

"He's concerned that if he even tried she would be punished for it. He's terrified that after everything that happened to her because of him that she would get hurt again."

Antonin stopped walking as the words tumbled out of his mouth. Hermione noticed the odd expression on his face. It was almost as if he wished he could gather the words back up in his hands and shove them back inside his mouth. She was desperate to know what he meant, but feared he wouldn't tell her under the guise of 'trying to protect' her.

"Antonin, _what_ happened to Reina exactly? Something awful must have happened to cause her to go into hiding and pretend to be someone she wasn't. Thorfinn would never tell me when I asked. He always made some excuse to run out of the room any time I tried."

"You already know that Thorfinn and I serve a sometimes cruel master, Hermione. Is that not enough?"

"No. It's not. What does Reina have to do with the Dark Lord? Tell me, Antonin."

He took a deep breath and exhaled. His hand slipped out of hers. She felt the loss of his touch profoundly. It made her sad and feel disconnected to the man she was slowly beginning to trust absolutely.

"Thorfinn made a big mistake earlier this year about the time you first moved into the manor," Antonin started, the reluctance easy to discern in his eyes. "The Dark Lord wanted to make an example of him for the rest of us. Show us that we are all responsible for our own actions and failures. I shouldn't be telling you this, Hermione."

He started to walk away from her back towards the cottage. She whistled to Argos before chasing after Antonin. His legs were much longer than hers and it took her a minute or two to reach him. She grasped his elbow to stop him.

" _Please_ , Antonin. Please tell me."

Antonin sighed.

"The Dark Lord sent Walden Macnair to find Thorfinn's little sister."

Hermione gasped before he could say anymore. She knew the man's reputation. She knew what he was capable of. Antonin ran his hands through his hair. It was obvious he didn't want to tell her the truth.

"Reina was brought to the Headmaster's Office and thrown on top of the desk. Thorfinn was brought in bound and thrown on the floor right in front of the desk."

She could feel the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Walden raped her in front of all of us at the Dark Lord's behest while Thorfinn was forced to watch. He expected to be brought in to be killed for his failures. He never expected Reina to be used against him. I'm not sure how long it all lasted. Too fucking long. Thorfinn begged the Dark Lord to kill him instead.

"After a while, must've felt like an eternity for that poor girl, the Dark Lord told Walden to stop. Made him take her down to a cell in the dungeons where she stayed for a few weeks. I'm not sure how long. Thorfinn was in the cell next to hers the entire time so he could have a front row seat for all of the subsequent rapes that she was subjected to during her stay. I'm certain Walden couldn't leave her alone and I know Gary and Vince liked to visit.

"When she was released she was pregnant. She was found wandering Hogsmeade by another Hufflepuff who got her in touch with the Resistance. She stayed with Lucius. In one of her first days there she snuck out of the manor and stole one of his brooms. Made herself fall off the broom at twenty feet or so. She broke her wrist, miscarried and almost died."

He couldn't bear to continue the story from there, but it didn't matter. Hermione couldn't bear to hear anymore. She stood in front of him completely disgusted and heartbroken for the strange Hufflepuff she remembered from school. Antonin placed his hands on her shoulder and pulled her entire body to his chest. She hid her face in his embrace. He held her for several minutes, running his hands through her hair and whispering soothing words into her ear.

"Could this kind of punishment be used against you?" she asked, her voice quiet enough that he almost missed her words.

"It's always possible, I'm afraid," he answered. "Reina was chosen because she was the most important person in Thorfinn's life. If I failed the Dark Lord and he wished for me to be made an example of, yes. It could very well happen. And because _you_ are the most important person in my life, it would be you on the desk."

She was the one to break the embrace.

"How can you bear to serve a master so cruel?"

With her words hanging in the air she turned and walked away from him. Argos was hot on her heels, but Antonin remained standing on the beach. Hermione reached the back garden gate before she spun back around to see if Antonin was following. He was still standing in the same spot she left him in, staring out at the ocean. Respecting his need to be alone and not feeling up to speaking to him just yet anyway, she and Argos reentered the cottage to finish the task of unpacking.

It was an almost an hour before Antonin finally walked back into their new home with a fierce determination on his countenance. In his silent, brooding manner he took Hermione by the hand and forced her to sit on the bed next to him. She was a bit nervous by his behavior, but she knew that instinctively she could trust him. He hadn't hurt her yet. Well, not physically at least.

"I don't want you to be unprotected any longer," he announced, shoving a box into her hands.

She could hardly believe what she was holding. The box was red with gold embossed lettering on the side: 9 3/5", Rowan, Dragon Heartstring. Her hands were shaking as she pried the lid off of the box. When the beautiful wand was in her hand she could feel the familiar surge of magic. With the exception of that horrible night using Antonin's spare wand, she hadn't felt the power of a wand for months.

"Mr. Ollivander has been able to reopen his shop in Diagon Alley thanks to some powerful friends in the Ministry. I spoke with him the other day about procuring this wand for you. He remembered the core of your first wand and was able to find one that very nearly matched the same specifications. He said that though it was a different size and made of a different wood it _should_ behave much as the one you purchased when you were eleven."

Hermione felt the all too familiar rush of tears gathering in her eyes. She still couldn't believe that he was essentially giving her the power to make her escape. Possibly even hurt him in the process. For the first time she actually believed that Antonin trusted her. It was a heady feeling considering his past.

"I want it on you at all times," he said in all seriousness. "Especially when you are alone. _Never_ allow anyone to come upon you unaware and unarmed."

"Antonin, I don't know what to say."

"I may be the biggest fool there is. I told Miss Rowle she was too trusting and maybe I'm just as foolish as she, but I know that I would not be able to live with myself if some harm came to you because I kept you without a wand."

"Thank you, Antonin."

She slipped the wand in her pocket for safekeeping. There would be plenty of time later for her to test out its strength. At the moment her hands were still shaking badly enough that she feared she could set the entire cottage on fire if she wasn't careful.

"I trust you enough, Hermione, that this cottage is not warded as Rabstan's manor grounds were. If you try to breach the garden gate here, nothing will happen to you. I would say that you are free to go as you please, but…"

"I'm not planning on going anywhere."

Her words seemed to catch him off guard. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes just a bit to examine her expression. She wasn't sure what kind of confirmation he was looking for.

"Maybe I'm too trusting or maybe I'm being naïve enough to believe our relationship has changed. I couldn't bear waking up one morning to find your side of the bed empty and you gone off to fight with the rebels."

"Antonin, I'm not going anywhere. I'm not the same person I was when I was in school. My best friend is no longer in danger. He's dead. My parents are in another country completely unaware of my existence. I would be nothing but a burden."

"Neville seemed awfully concerned for you."

Hermione placed her hand on his cheek to still the upsetting words that she was afraid would be coming out of his mouth.

"Neville and everyone else assumed I was dead, Antonin. No one was looking for me. No one, except you."

"You can't know that for certain, Hermione," he protested.

"But I do. I've always been an outsider, Antonin, even when I was in the thick of things with Harry and Ron. They always just kind of took me for granted or just _expected_ me to figure out all of the hard problems. If one of them was alive then maybe, _maybe_ they would've spared me a thought.

"I would wager my very soul that once everyone saw me carried out of the Great Hall by Grawp that everyone assumed I was dead. Neville probably didn't even give me another thought until I was captured and my picture was posted in the newspaper."

Her confession hurt her more than she wanted to admit to herself. Sure, Harry and Ron usually tried to include her in what was going on around them, but no one else gave her much of a thought. She was simply a part of a trio, never an entity of her own. Once the other parts of her group were dead, she was disregarded. She hadn't been _that_ good at hiding during those nine months on her own. More than once she left clues as to her whereabouts if anyone with the Order cared to look. No one ever had. It was all the proof that she needed to know that the Resistance didn't really need her.

There seemed to be only two creatures in the entire world that not only _needed_ Hermione Granger, but actually wanted her too. One was a notorious Death Eater. The other was currently tracking in pounds of sand that clung to his oversized paws. While Hermione knew she couldn't make promises that her decision not to leave would always be her chosen course of action, for the time being she wasn't going anywhere.

She had grown weary of their conversation. It was too painful, too real. Hermione rose from the bed and gave Antonin a swift kiss on the lips. She was determined that she was going to knock off the melancholy that had been plaguing her all day. There had been reasons to celebrate and be joyous over the past couple of days. The Umbridge Home was no more. All of the prisoners were rescued and no longer forced to endure unimaginable pain and torture. Luna had her baby and Lucius was making certain that his family was being protected. Reina Rowle was found to be alive and safe. Dolores Umbridge was dead and she was witness to the bitch's suffering before she died.

"I'm going down to the cellar," she announced.

"Why?"

"To get rid of all traces that that horrible woman was ever here. We are going to make this a place we're proud to call our home."

The wizard watched the young, somewhat innocent witch bounce out of the room with a bemused expression on his face.

* * *

Despite spending the remaining daylight hours the day before plus several nighttime hours working on the cellar and despite slipping into bed at an ungodly hour with an insatiable wizard on the pillow next to hers, Hermione woke up a long time before the sun. She could hear Antonin's soft, soothing snores and didn't even try to suppress the grin that crossed her face at the knowledge that part of the reason the man had been getting much more relaxed and fulfilling sleep was because of her. Once the door had been opened the first time they couldn't seem to get enough of each other. While they both were aware that the novelty of lovemaking would wear off at some point, neither of them was looking forward to that day.

She carefully removed herself from out beneath the covers. Antonin hardly noticed her movements. She hoped that she would find herself back in the bed before the day fully started. Months of getting enough sleep had changed her from the woman content to function on just a few hours here and there. Hermione pulled her bathrobe over her pajamas and stepped into some warm slippers. Argos opened a single eye when she passed by him, but the moment he realized it was still too early for breakfast, he closed it.

The stairs into the cellar were creaky and a little perilous. Antonin had already put in a request with Greg to completely replace the staircase. It was old and likely full of wood rot or termite damage. He was a little afraid that the entire structure would collapse one day when they were using it. Hermione ignored his concerns and crossed the future study to the corner where she'd unpacked all of Antonin's potion making supplies the night before.

At least an hour and a half had passed before her brewing was interrupted by her sleepy, concerned wizard. His brow was furrowed, but the moment his gorgeous dark brown eyes landed on his witch stirring a cauldron, he visibly relaxed. Antonin carefully descended the treacherous staircase.

" _Daragaya_ , what are you brewing at seven in the morning?" he asked, not bothering to stifle a yawn.

She turned to smile at him, never ceasing her stirring for a second.

"Contraceptive potion."

Her response obviously caught the man off-guard. He snorted once and then peered down into the bubbling cauldron over her shoulder.

"It's a quite powerful one, actually," she explained. "One cauldron will make twelve doses and twelve doses will last twelve months. I can take all twelve doses over the next few days and not have to worry about brewing any more for an entire year."

"That's impressive. Where did you learn to brew this?"

"Professor Snape always had a special mandatory class for all fifth year girls. We met a few Saturday mornings in the dungeons to learn how to brew. He said that it was important that we all understand the importance of contraceptives and that we should all be able to brew one in our sleep.

"'Don't leave it up to any dunderheaded wizard to cast the contraceptive charm for you. I assure you, that's not the wand he's focused on'."

Her stern impression of the late Headmaster made them both laugh. She briefly saw a bit of panic and shame cross Antonin's face when he remembered that he had been the dunderheaded wizard that had forgotten the charm a time or two. Sensing his discomfort, Hermione finished her stirring and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Don't worry," she said. "I cast a diagnostic charm on myself this morning just to be safe. I don't have any little Dolohovs or little…"

She coughed.

"Well, I'm not pregnant at any rate and this potion should keep us protected for the next year."

Antonin watched her fill up several small vials with the finished liquid in silence.

"Have you ever wanted to have children?" he asked.

"Of course, but I'm in no hurry. The world seems too unstable to bring another innocent life into it now."

"If you wait until the world is perfect to have children, you will die before you ever do."

"Do you want children, Antonin?"

"I never allowed myself to hope in having my own family. Now I think I would like to."

Antonin kissed her once more on the top of the head before heading back up the stairs to leave her alone with her brewing.

* * *

As June progressed Hermione spent a great deal of time with Gregory Goyle. The young wizard was working hard to finish their kitchen. Hermione offered assistance and plenty of advice for the contractor. Antonin enjoyed standing back and watching their interactions from the sidelines. She'd taken control of the remodeling project much to Antonin's delight. He had to repeatedly tell her that he _wanted_ her input. This was her home too.

"Have a good evening, Greg," Hermione said to the wizard as she and Argos escorted him to the front door in mid-June. "Tomorrow we can try a sample of that blue paint I think I like better than the green that we tried yesterday. I think I will grow to hate the green if we leave it."

Antonin chuckled from his spot on the living room sofa where he was reading the evening edition of the Daily Prophet. Hermione heard his snickers when she closed the door.

"Something amusing?" she asked, curling up on the couch next to him.

"I'm a little concerned that you are going to drive our poor contractor mad," he laughed.

"Why? What did I do?"

"You're so bossy," he answered, softening his answer with a soft kiss to her forehead. "How many different colors has he painted the kitchen in the past week?"

Hermione shrugged.

"Tomorrow it will be four."

He laughed and kissed her again.

"But we have to live with these choices for a long time, Antonin. I don't want us living in something we hate."

"Rowena, save me, I'm destined to spend my life surrounded by bossy, opinionated, stubborn women."

"We make life more interesting."

"That you do, Hermione. My father always told me, "Antonin, find a witch who isn't afraid to challenge you and your life will never be dull". He was right, of course."

They settled back into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, but there was something in the back of Hermione's mind that bothered her about Antonin. She'd tried to ignore her concerns. It never worked. The more time she spent with the enigmatic wizard, the more she wanted to unravel the mystery that made him up.

"May I ask you something rather personal, Antonin?" She was determined to not back down.

"Of course."

"You talk about your mother a lot, and I truly wish that I could've met her when she was still alive."

"She would've loved you."

The thought made Hermione's cheeks flush deep crimson. He had a talent for distraction.

"Why did you become a Death Eater if you loved your mother so much? How could you be part of a group that hates Muggleborns?"

Antonin meticulously folded his evening paper before laying it in his lap. It was obvious that he was stalling for the proper amount of time in which to form the correct words.

"First, before I answer your question, let me make a very important distinction. I do not _hate_ Muggleborns. I hate Muggles."

"I fail to see the difference."

"There is a _major_ difference, Hermione. I'm not like Rabastan or Bellatrix or even Lucius in his prime with their pureblood ideology. If Muggleborns are willing to fully assimilate into our society and renounce their Muggle ways, I have no problem with them and certainly have no problem with them marrying others with so-called purer blood. We would've all died out hundreds of years ago if we weren't willing to introduce new blood to our bloodlines. Look at the Blacks. Hundreds of years of inbreeding have created an entire family that is unstable and even downright dangerous.

" _Muggles_ are the real danger. I have always hated them. While my vehemence has tempered as I've gotten older, I still believe that the natural order should include wizards at the top. We shouldn't live a life afraid of filthy Muggles figuring out we exist. We should rule over them."

"But your Muggle grandparents…"

"My Muggle grandparents thought they could beat the magic out of my mother. They believed she was possessed by some kind of demon and that the only way to save her soul was to kill her. She was only nine years old and they dragged her to a nearby stream to drown her."

Hermione gasped. She couldn't believe that there were still people in this world who could be so barbaric. This was their own daughter!

"Thankfully, my father was able to save her life. In some parts of the world, Hermione, _Muggles_ are more of a threat to Muggleborns than a group of overly proud purebloods."

"That's a horrible story."

"Yes, it is, and unfortunately, every word of it is true. I'm not ashamed that my mother was Muggleborn. She was a powerfully gifted witch. She even grew to be stronger than my father and he could trace his pureblood heritage back over seven hundred years. The three most important women in my life were all Muggleborn witches."

"Your mother and…"

"And you, Hermione."

That still left one more. He'd rarely opened up so much to her in the past. Antonin Dolohov was an extremely private wizard.

"And Anna," he answered before she could ask the question. "The witch I should've married when I was eighteen."

Hermione sat up straighter on the couch. He'd never mentioned any woman from his past. She wasn't naïve enough to believe there hadn't been others. He was entirely too talented with his tongue to not prove there had been plenty of opportunities for practice in his past. Sensing she was a bit tense by his confession, Antonin wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her back to his chest.

"She was my first love. Another Ravenclaw in my year. Took me six years to work up the courage to finally ask her out. Turned out she had been _waiting_ six years for me to ask. The last two years at Hogwarts were great and I wanted to marry her."

"What happened?"

"My father didn't think that she was from a good enough family. A Muggleborn witch was good enough for him, but he wanted his son to marry into the Sacred Twenty-Eight. _Persuaded_ me rather strongly to break off all ties with Anna and he arranged a marriage with one of the girls from the Selwyn family."

"Did you get married?" She was confused. Not once had he ever mentioned a wife in his former life.

"No, their father was horrified to find out my mother was Muggleborn. Broke off the engagement. By that time, it was too late. Anna had already moved on. She married another Muggleborn and they moved to Canada to avoid the war. I don't know what happened to her after that. I'd like to believe that she is still happy and surrounded by dozens of happy children."

Hermione could see the pain still present in his eyes. It didn't matter that he was talking about something that happened almost thirty years earlier. Wanting to spare him any more discomfort because of the questions that she'd asked, Hermione leaned up to capture the solemn wizard's lips in a kiss. For a short time they were both able to distract one another from unpleasant memories.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Since the first night Antonin shared his bed with Hermione Granger he'd been unable to resist waking up in the middle of the night at least once to stare in wonder at the young witch asleep next to him. Months had passed with the same nightly ritual. Their relationship had changed every bit as much as their positions on the bed had changed. They started on the opposite sides of the bed with their backs to each other. After months of slow maneuvering they ended up in the middle together with her wild curls frequently making trips up his nostrils in the middle of the night. The tiny witch somehow managed to always end up with her freezing cold feet between his legs and her deliciously round bum rubbed up against sensitive parts of his own body. He couldn't complain too much about that last part. It had made for some unforgettable mornings since moving into their own private cottage.

Weeks had passed since the night he and his witch were finally intimate on the bare living floor while their hostage was underneath them in the basement. Even though they had been able to christen every single room of their small, cozy new home including the drafty, unfinished attic in that time, he still found it shocking at times to wake up in the middle of the night with his arms full of naked witch. He'd never freely shared his bed in all _almost_ forty eight years of his life. There is an element of trust required for two people to share their sleeping spaces. Until he captured the shivering woman that January night, he'd never found anyone he was willing to remain that close to for the duration of his sleep cycle.

He still had trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that _she_ trusted him enough to let her guard down completely in his presence. The bedcovers had slipped down at some point in her sleep to reveal the top of the hated scar he was responsible for giving her so many years earlier. Moonlight shining in through the bedroom window illuminated the evidence of the harsh mistake he'd made in the damned Department of Mysteries. How could this woman still be able to not only trust him enough to relax completely in his presence but open up her body to a monster like him?

She was naïve. Wondrously, unbelievably naïve at times. It hadn't escaped his notice that if he and Anna had been able to marry when they were teenagers like they'd both dreamed about, that he could very well have a daughter Hermione's age. Naturally he tried to not to dwell on those facts too often. He already felt like a wicked, murderous brute. He didn't need to add lecherous old man to the list. She could be so trusting of him even after he permanently marred her body in such a fashion. Even after months of knowing her personally and being able to pick that marvelous brain of hers, Antonin still didn't understand the first thing about the Gryffindor that was curled up in his arms and steadily winding her way into his cold heart.

Antonin placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. He closed his eyes to give himself back to the relaxation of sleep. Once more he was content to know that the curly haired witch was lying next to him.

He was the first to wake up that morning when the sun began to shine into their bedroom. Hermione slept on even when he carefully unwrapped his arms from around her body. She didn't even seem to realize he was leaving their private haven. Simply snuggled under the covers and slept on. Once she told him that she used to be the first person to wake up in her dormitory. Not a day went by that she wasn't the first to rise, the first in the bathroom, the first down the stairs, and the first in the Great Hall for breakfast. She was usually the first in the library each day. When he teased her one morning about sleeping in so late when she used to be Miss Early Bird, she simply reminded him that he was talking about another young, Muggleborn witch who had great potential and lived in another lifetime. The sadness in her eyes as she pulled the blankets over her head to resume her slumber broke even _his_ cold, dead heart. Depression was a daily struggle for the young witch and one that he could certainly understand.

Antonin stretched his stiff muscles in front of the large window overlooking the ocean. He was certain he would never grow tired of the view from their sanctuary. It was almost July but there was still a lingering chill in their bedroom. He crossed the room towards the bathroom, almost tripping over a yawning Argos in the process. The beast had been given the private moniker of "In the Way" for his penchant for always being underfoot. Hermione found the trait endearing, he found it obnoxious. Argos rose from his spot and looked as if he were about to leap onto the bed to wake his mistress.

"Nuh uh," Antonin said, softly swatting the dog's massive behind. It didn't hurt the creature. Simply seemed to offend his furry sensibilities. "Leave her alone. If you can refrain from waking her up before I get out of the shower, I will make you something special for breakfast."

He always felt like an idiot bargaining with the animal, but Argos dutifully laid his head back down on the rug. The animal was snoring again before Antonin was able to close the bathroom door. He was showered, dressed and standing in front of the kitchen stove before either of the other occupants of the cottage stirred.

"Good morning," Hermione greeted him, coming around behind him at the stove to wrap her arms around his waist. He never got tired of the feel of her slim arms or the quick kiss between his shoulder blades.

Argos, as usual, was only steps behind his mistress. When Hermione moved to start brewing the tea, the dog sat at attention next to the stove. The expression on his face and the soft 'woof' needed no human-canine translator. Argos was reminding Antonin of his promise for a special breakfast. Rolling his eyes and suppressing an amused chuckle, Antonin broke a couple of extra eggs into the skillet. The canine's massive tail immediately began to wag. It only took a few more minutes until Hermione and Antonin were both seated at the kitchen table with their breakfasts trying to politely ignore the overenthusiastic sounds of their dog consuming his own meal.

"Delicious, Antonin," Hermione said after taking a few bites. "I might just have to talk you into being the permanent cook."

"I assure you, _daragaya_ , that will _not_ be a problem," he teased.

"Shut up, Antonin. I'm not _that_ bad."

A whine from Argos at the other end of the kitchen made Antonin burst out laughing at the indignant expression on his witch's face. As soon as Gregory placed the finishing touches on their new kitchen, she'd attempted and failed more than once to cook the meals. Antonin had dutifully eaten every single burnt and tasteless mouthful that had been placed on his plate with no complaint.

"I may not be as talented as Rabastan's house elves, but I assure you, we won't starve," she replied, a cross huff escaping her lips.

"No, we won't starve," he agreed. "As long as we are both able to Apparate, there is always take away."

Hermione threw her wadded up napkin at Antonin's smirk. She rolled her eyes and finally gave in to the teasing. He leaned across the small table to kiss her lips. They were finishing up the meal when his arm began to burn. Frustrated with the summons, he groaned before rising from the table.

"Summons?" she asked, concern etched over every inch of her beautiful face.

"Yes, will you be all right?"

"Of course. Greg is coming by in an hour or so to work on the attic. Our day will be pretty full."

She followed him to the front door of the cottage, kissing him goodbye as if he were simply headed off to another day at the office. Antonin wasn't sure what went through her overactive brain during moments when it was impossible for her to forget that he was a Death Eater and therefore, her enemy, but he hoped that she could always look past his mask to the wizard beneath. Her worried eyes were still raking his form when he Disapparated away to wherever his Dark Lord required him.

He'd learned early on in his _career_ as a follower of Lord Voldemort that there was a tricky charm embedded in the Dark Mark on his left forearm. While he wasn't sure how it all worked or how many separate charms were involved, he was surprised to learn that the Dark Lord could summon him specifically to arrive in a place where he wasn't even located. All he had to do was place the tip of his wand to his Mark before he Apparated. Wherever the Dark Lord wanted him to be, that's where he would arrive.

Why the Dark Lord would want him back at Azkaban was beyond him. The moment his feet touched the familiar stones in the damned fortress Antonin's stomach began to twist. He hadn't been back since the day he'd finally been able to claim his war prize and take the poor, shivering, ill girl back to Rabastan's manor. That was the last time he had hoped to ever revisit the place that had stolen fifteen years of his worthless life. Even standing in the front of the prison far away from any of the prisoners or the damned dementors that guarded them, he felt the uneasiness of the place.

Yaxley was standing in the middle of the assembled group of thirty or forty Death Eaters that arrived within moments of Antonin. He was waiting for them all to arrive before he gave the orders that they were to take the small boats to the coast to stand guard. Rumors had been swirling for days that there was going to be an assault on the fortress. Antonin thought the rumors sounded ridiculous. Even if the rebels had been able to break out every single woman from the Umbridge Home with no casualties, Azkaban was an entirely different story. Breaching its walls was impossible.

Antonin found himself sharing a boat with Cadmus Mulciber and Thorfinn to his immense displeasure. Part of him worried that the younger wizard's girth would capsize their vessel in the frigid waters of the North Sea. Rowle didn't seem too anxious to share the vessel with Antonin either. Only Cadmus was ignorant of the tension in the small boat as his horrible habit of prattering on bore evidence to.

They were stationed on the banks of the mainland in full view of the prison. Antonin was pleased to know that while he was still forced to be _near_ the place that held so many horrors for him, he wasn't actually being forced to remain within. There were some who were stuck inside the crumbling walls of the dank prison, but he was grateful to not be one of them. They were a relatively silent force of dozens of masked sentinels.

This wasn't the first time he was forced to remain awake and alert for over twenty-four hours and he was certain it wouldn't be the last. Either there was to be no attack on Azkaban or Yaxley had gotten the date wrong. Nothing happened in the first thirty-six hours of their vigil. All around him Antonin could hear the yawns and whispered complaints from the men and women who'd given up their lives to the same master he had. They were all growing tired of nothing happening. He was certain that he wasn't the only one with a willing, warm witch waiting for him in his oversized bed. As the hour grew close to midnight, he silently, yet fervently, wished that they would all receive the order to disperse soon. Hermione would just be getting ready for bed if he was able to leave at that second. He might even be home in time to catch her finishing up one of her frequent bubble baths. They'd both _thoroughly_ enjoyed the last one they were able to take together.

His thoughts were focused on his witch when the first of the boats began to appear over the horizon. If one of his more observant brethren hadn't shouted out that there were boats approaching, he might have gone right on daydreaming until a stunner struck him right in the gut. Thankfully, his battle instincts had served him well over the years as an acolyte of the Dark Lord. When the boats of various sizes and makes filled the sea in front of them, the battle began in earnest.

He was on the edge of the fighting. Most of the rebels were still heading in his direction when the curses began to light up the night sky. Shouts filled the once still night air. Time seemed to pass very slowly once the excitement began. Antonin was able to witness several duels beginning around him before he clapped eyes on his first rebel with intent to do him personal harm. To Antonin, every single person fighting with the rebellious force represented one more hurdle in creating the world he wanted to live in with his witch. They represented the force that would be more than willing to steal the woman away from him whether either of them wanted it or not.

He showed the rebels no mercy. The wizard who dared to raise his wand in his direction was lying face down in the waters of the North Sea before he was likely even aware of what hit him. He would provide any witch or wizard who attempted to engage him a swift, painless death, but they would all fall at his wand. They were too dangerous to be allowed to continue their campaign of bringing down the world that Antonin and others like him were trying to build.

The boat rebels were fierce fighters. He could never deny the bravery and skill of a worthy opponent. In the darkness and the chaos, Antonin couldn't be sure how many he was able to strike down. Many of his Marked brothers and sisters weren't so fortunate. He could hear their screams and a cursory survey of the coast further down from him revealed many fallen comrades. Despite his better judgment, he kept an eye out for the burly blonde. Somehow he knew that the first question to come out of his witch's mouth when he returned home and she knew he was safe would be about _him_. He couldn't blame her for her large, open heart. It was part of what he was growing to love about her. That is, of course, assuming that he was even capable of love. The Wizengamot was still deliberating on that one.

Thorfinn was holding his own about thirty feet from Antonin. As the rebels began to arrive in ever increasing numbers, he couldn't spare a glance in his direction very often, but felt confident that he would come out of this unscathed. He was comparable to a cockroach in Antonin's mind. He would keep coming back no matter what curse one hit him with. His musings on vermin and insects were interrupted by the arrival of a fresh wave of rebels arriving _behind_ him. The fighters on the coastline were now trapped between the rebels in the boats and the countless rebels running in from the darkness.

Curse after curse was sent flying in his direction and to his great credit, none had yet met their mark completely. His robes were singed and his mask had fallen off at some point in an aggressive duel, but he was untouched. The vast number of forces on the rebel side were disconcerting. Somewhere in the back of his mind he'd assumed that the rebels were a fly-by-night group of maybe fifty or sixty hardcore Harry Potter supporters. He'd never imagined that they would have been capable of pulling off the raid at the Umbridge Home. This raid, however, was unparalleled. They had all been misled by the number of willing soldiers for the opposing side. More of them existed than they were aware.

A prickling in the air made Antonin's hair start to spark and crackle. He could feel the short hairs over his entire body begin to stand on end. Despite the violence and cacophony of the hundreds of curses flying through the night sky, he could detect the beginnings of protective enchantments being placed between him and the prison. His first assumption was that the ones waiting inside the prison were lifting the wards to prevent any potential break-in of the prison. During a few moments with no opponents to curse, Antonin was able to spot a boat full of rebels focusing all of their magic on lifting the wards.

Immediately he began searching out his fellow cursebreakers. Whatever the rebels were planning, they needed to bring it down _immediately_. He ran through multiple duels narrowly missing being struck by wayward curses to seek out Rookwood, the two Notts and that sort-of pretty witch that always hung around with Jugson. He could never remember her damn name. _Something with an 'E'._ _Elspeth? Elizabeth? Elise?_ His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of young Theodore Nott. He was a relatively new recruit. Antonin knew the type. Could sense a mile off that he wasn't there of his own accord. He was yet another one forced into the Dark Lord's service by his father.

"Edana and Father are already working on the wards," informed Theo.

"Where's Rookwood?" Antonin asked, scanning the nearby fighters.

"He's dead," the boy answered with little emotion. "Struck down by one of the Resistance."

No one would miss Augustus Rookwood so Antonin didn't even waste a moment of his time to mourn the bastard. All he cared about was without him their team was down one. Rookwood might have been trash, but he was an excellent cursebreaker. Antonin ordered the pale, visibly frightened boy to return to his father and the witch. He would join them shortly.

Antonin ran off in the opposite direction, ignoring all of the bedlam around him. To his benefit, no one tried to actively engage him while he was on the run. He caught a glimpse of Thorfinn indiscriminately throwing curses towards the boats and then towards the rebels behind him. Antonin had to resist the urge to roll his eyes in the middle of battle. The young wizard hadn't learned the value of a well-timed or well-placed curse. He was the fool responsible for killing Gibbon with a killing curse when Dumbledore was also killed. Obviously he still hadn't learned his lesson.

He could see Travers, the wizard he was looking for to assist them further with the wards, just up ahead about thirty yards. As he was running full speed towards the wizard, Antonin and many others around him were thrown to the ground. A massive explosion coming from the island out at sea was large enough to shake the ground he was standing on. Splashes could be heard where rebels were thrown out of their boats. His ears were ringing and he felt a bit dizzy, but Antonin ignored all of that to turn his face towards the prison. What he had heard wasn't a single explosion but a series of at least ten. Large, gaping holes were spread out all over the prison.

Immediately the atmosphere changed. While it had been a warm, almost balmy late June evening, the air suddenly turned dreadfully cool. All around him he could hear screams from Death Eaters and rebels alike. One look towards the fortress told him all he needed to know. Hundreds of dementors, quite possibly every single dementor that lived on that dreadful island, began to float towards the holes in their prison. They were able to float and glide in the air. He could see them all exiting the prison through the gaps to further examine the damage.

In the distance he heard a loud horn from one of the boats. Ordinarily intended to give its position away while out in the midst of fog, the blaring from the horn was a signal to the rebels. Shouts of " _Expecto Patronum"_ rang throughout the night air. Many of the fighters still battling the Death Eaters paused their duels when possible to send their own corporeal patronus out towards the creatures. Hundreds of patronuses filled the night sky. Antonin could hardly breathe he was so in awe of the spectacle. Every animal _imaginable_ was streaking across the sky. Almost all of the fighting on land and with the rebels in the boats ceased for the length of time it took for the patronus menagerie to reach the prison.

Every single dementor that had the misfortune of being a bit too nosy after the explosions was knocked back from the prison fortress at least two hundred yards. The silvery, transparent animals kept the creatures away long enough for the night sky to once again be filled. This time, however, hundreds of witches and wizards on broomsticks zoomed across the clear sky towards the prison. Antonin could see from the distance that they were flying right into the prison itself! All thoughts of dueling were pushed out of the minds of the fighters as the fliers zoomed into one of the ten holes in the prison and then proceeded to zoom back out with at least one or two emaciated prisoners clinging to the backs of their brooms.

He hated to admit that he was impressed, but damn it, Antonin was impressed. Once again he was witness to another well-planned, well-organized and well-executed raid by the rebel forces. A small voice in the back of his mind warned him that he shouldn't grow complacent. There was a serious possibility that the Dark Lord would eventually lose everything he gained the day he struck Harry Potter down. It was as if Antonin was standing close enough to the ocean for a rogue wave to drench him in icy cold water. The realization that he might one day be on the losing side and therefore, unable to protect Hermione, was sobering.

When the surprise of what was happening at the prison wore off, the fighting resumed. Antonin picked himself up off of the ground and resumed his search for Travers. The man had proven himself capable in the past of breaking through difficult enchantments. He only made it about ten feet before he caught a glimpse of familiar white blond hair in the distance. Antonin picked up his pace and ran towards the wizard he knew without any doubt was Lucius Malfoy.

He knew the history of Malfoy with the Dark Lord. Part of him could even understand what caused the wizard to switch sides. His old hatred for the wizard, however, prevented too much sympathy. Antonin raised his wand and sent several curses one right after the other towards the bastard. Lucius was able to easily deflect the curses with a powerful shield. Antonin could feel his ire begin to raise his blood pressure. Before he was able to send another curse in Lucius' direction, he felt his entire body tense and fall backwards. Fucking full-body bind. He was never going to escape from that damned spell!

Lucius towered over his prostrate form with his wand pointed directly at his face. Antonin would've spat in his direction if he could've moved. He prepared himself for the curse he knew Lucius had been anxious to send in his direction for years. At least he knew that Hermione was safe tucked away in their Unplottable cottage.

"The only reason you aren't dead right now, Antonin, is because of what you did for Reina."

The words were spoken through clenched teeth, but he understood every single one of them. Lucius was sparing his life because of the warning he gave Miss Rowle. He would've laughed if he could've moved. A selfless deed had actually saved his sorry excuse for a life. There was always a first for everything.

Lucius sneered down at Antonin once more before turning back to enter the fray. Antonin was able to see him step only a few inches away from his body before he was struck by multiple curses. Internally he was cheering the wizard that turned out to be Yaxley. Lucius was lying on the ground with the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement hitting him with multiple binding and stinging hexes. Yaxley always enjoyed playing with his victims before going in for the kill. He towered over Lucius in much the same manner that Lucius had done over Antonin only mere minutes earlier. A demented grin on Yaxley's face warmed Antonin's cold heart. Lucius was finally going to get what he deserved.

Antonin's celebration was short-lived. Before Yaxley could finish the job he'd started so valiantly, he was hit with multiple streams of different colored spells. Yaxley flew backwards through the air before landing with a sickening crunch. In the corner of his eye, he saw a tall, thin blonde woman rush to Lucius' side. She covered them both in a powerful shield before levitating Lucius' injured body away from the fray. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Reina Rowle had just narrowly saved Lucius' life.

He wasn't sure how long he lay in the dirt unable to fight. Too damn long. After what felt like an eternity, the spell was removed. A beefy hand was held out for Antonin to grasp. He took it without hesitation.

"Try to be more careful, Dolohov!" shouted Thorfinn as he rushed away from the area.

The sky was still crowded with the brave, or rather foolish in Antonin's opinion, witches and wizards who were rescuing the poor sods locked up in the prison. Another moment of distraction as Antonin watched a broomstick with three people on it fly by was enough to knock him back down to the ground.

He wasn't bound this time, but before he could completely rise again from the ground, another beam went straight to his chest. He floundered on the ground, desperate to catch his breath. A wizard with flaming red hair stomped on his chest. The cracking of at least two of his ribs was deafening. Pain was coursing through every cell in Antonin's body, but the wizard didn't remove his heavy, dragonhide boot from his sternum.

"Where is Hermione, Dolohov?" the wizard demanded.

The mixture of moonlight and the light from the curses flying in all direction illuminated the man's face enough that Antonin was able to see massive scars. He remembered Fenrir boasting on multiple occasions that he'd shredded and ruined the oldest Weasley boy's face. His name escaped Antonin's mind, but that didn't really seem to matter at the moment.

"We know you have Hermione," Weasley continued. "Tell me where she is."

He shifted more of his weight to the foot that was pressing on Antonin's chest. The pain was swiftly becoming unbearable, but he wasn't going to budge. He wasn't going to tell this idiot boy where _his_ witch was. Weasley's attention was diverted for a single moment when shouts from the fliers above indicated that the prisoners had all been rescued. Antonin only needed a second.

One spell sent the eldest Weasley and his damned heavy boots flying backwards off his body. It hurt like hell to stand up, but Antonin wasted no time climbing to his feet. Both men met the other's eyes and Antonin knew that this wasn't going to be over until one of them was dead. It had been a long time since Antonin was paired against such an evenly matched opponent. Part of him was pleased to learn that if he was going to be fighting for his life, he would be doing so against a worthy opponent.

None of their spells made their mark. They both were too skilled in diversion and shields to allow direct hits. Antonin's body was screaming with pain from the broken ribs, but he refused to allow the wizard to get him. All distractions fell away. Antonin couldn't even hear the others fighting in the distance or the fearful shrieks from those trying to get away from the returned dementors. Even the icy despair he associated with the prison guards of Azkaban was ignored in his fierce determination to overpower the younger wizard.

They might have fought until they both collapsed at the same time out of sheer exhaustion if Weasley hadn't been joined by reinforcements. Two wizards rushed to Weasleys' assistance. Antonin was able to stun one relatively quickly after his arrival leaving him to battle against two. The second wizard that arrived to help wore an angry, intimidating expression on his familiar countenance. Once Hermione was safely captured and locked away in the ancestral home of the Lestranges, Kingsley Shacklebolt was promoted to Undesirable No 2 in her place.

"Surrender, Dolohov!" the former auror shouted. "Surrender and take us to Hermione and we'll show you mercy."

Antonin scoffed. He hadn't survived as long as he had by being a fool. There were always strings to offers of mercy. Choosing to ignore the pleas from both men to reveal where Hermione was located, he continued in a taxing two-against-one duel that he was fairly certain would end in his defeat. Already he could feel his battered body slowing. His reflexes weren't as sharp as they needed to be to survive. Already Shacklebolt had been able to hit him with a slicing hex to his shoulder. Blood was pouring from the wound at such a rate that he feared he might pass out from blood loss before much longer.

"All we want is Hermione," Weasley continued. "Just let her go."

"She doesn't mean anything to you!" Shacklebolt shouted.

Antonin was able to deflect their simultaneous curses with a shield much like the talented Miss Rowle used the night she saved her brother's life. His energy was waning. The duel would be over soon.

"You're wrong about that!" Antonin shouted back.

It was none of their business what was going on between his witch and himself, but he couldn't stop himself from shouting back to the men. He wondered as he huddled behind his shield what Hermione would say to know that two of the strongest members of the rebel forces were actively seeking out knowledge of her whereabouts. Three, if he counted the Longbottom boy. And she was the one who claimed that she would simply be a burden and no one was looking for her? Maybe if she knew they were searching she might be more reluctant to remain hidden in their cottage.

His shield wavered just long enough for a final curse to be hurled in his direction. He felt the energy hit him straight in the chest. His feet were off the ground and he was thrown backwards. When his injured chest and the back of his head crashed into the hard ground, he was certain that he was about to die. His last thoughts were of Hermione before the world went dark.

* * *

Antonin's first thought of afterlife was that it smelled strange. When his exhausted eyes opened in the stark white room, he was assaulted with the horrible smell of a mixture of sterilizing cleansers and noxious potions. His eyes watered at the pungent scents. It was official. Hell existed and he was in it.

"Mr. Dolohov?"

A timid voice off to his left side broke him out of his reverie. It took most of his strength, but he struggled to turn his head towards the sound. If he was dead then so was Gregory Goyle. That didn't make any sense. The boy was supposed to be with Hermione working on their attic.

"Gregory?"

His voice was scratchy and a bit painful to use. A bright smile crossed the young wizard's face at the sound of his name.

"Hermione will be so pleased to hear that you're awake," he said. "She tried to come to the hospital herself, but I told her I didn't think that was wise."

 _Perceptive boy_. If Hermione was to prove that she was more than just his captive, she would be under a great deal more scrutiny. The best case scenario would give the Dark Lord more power to keep him in line if he threatened Hermione in any way. The worst case scenario would have the Dark Lord reassigning the witch to one of his other followers who didn't harbor the same feelings he did.

"Thank you," Antonin replied. He wasn't strong enough to say more.

"I'll go let the healers know you're awake."

Several minutes later a no-nonsense witch with grey hair and the ugliest spectacles Antonin had ever seen came bustling into his room. She explained to him while she completed her examination that he had been unconscious for almost three solid days. His injuries had been severe, but not enough that he wouldn't be able to recover from them completely. She rattled off a list that included severe concussion, four broken ribs and internal bleeding amongst a myriad of other minor injuries.

"I must insist that you stay in St. Mungo's for at least another four or five days," she said, ignoring the deep groan that came out of her patient. "You are lucky to be alive, Mr. Dolohov."

Her lecture was interrupted by the hesitant reappearance of young Mr. Goyle. Antonin raised a hand to let the boy know it was all right for him to enter. He settled himself back down on the chair he'd vacated earlier while the healer continued her haranguing of her patient.

"Bloody obnoxious woman," Antonin muttered when she exited the room.

Gregory snorted.

"Speaking of bloody obnoxious women," he continued. "Hermione sent you here?"

"Yes, sir. She asked me to keep an eye on you if possible. She's been very worried about you."

"Do you know what happened?"

He shook his head.

"There weren't a lot of details. All I know is that the rebels were able to get almost every single prisoner out of Azkaban before they all left."

"Weasley and Shacklebolt?"

"They got away."

"Damn."

Gregory stood from the chair to place a rumpled newspaper in Antonin's hands.

"Hermione made me promise that I'd come back as soon as you were awake," he explained. "She can be a bit scary if you don't do what she tells you."

It was Antonin's turn to snort.

"Thank you, Gregory. Please tell her I'll be home soon."

"Yes, sir."

Antonin watched the young wizard exit his hospital room before turning his attention to the newspaper in his hands. The front page was devoted entirely to the events of the violent night. Despite the Daily Prophet being securely in the hands of the Ministry and the Ministry securely in the hands of the Dark Lord, there were hints in the article that the rebels were successful. Antonin had to suppress another snort. Of course they were successful! Anyone with a pair of eyes could've told him that. Hundreds of Azkaban prisoners, some legitimate prisoners, but most political prisoners, were released in a single night. The rebels now had even more built-in allies.

The second page of the paper provided a list of known deaths. Losses were heavy for the Death Eaters. Rookwood he already knew about, but there were at least thirty others that had been killed or severely injured. Even his name was in the paper under the heading "Wounded - Unlikely to Survive." _Thanks for the confidence,_ he thought bitterly. A surprising name under the "Missing - Presumed Dead" heading stood out on the page: Thorfinn Rowle. Despite his growing hatred for the man, he had to admit that he was _disappointed_ to hear about the blonde's fate. He knew Hermione would be saddened whether she was willing to admit so or not. Antonin wadded up the newspaper and tossed it back over onto Gregory's empty chair.

* * *

Antonin annoyed his Healer to the point that she was willing to send him home after only two days. She made him promise that he would do nothing but rest for at least another week. Gregory, who had come by each day at Hermione's insistence, stood off to the side while he was chastised by the Healer.

"You, young sir," the healer said to Gregory. "Can you see that he doesn't do anything to reinjure himself over the next week?"

Antonin narrowed his eyes at the wizard. Gregory's cheeks flamed red but a small, cheeky grin crossed his features that made the older wizard nervous.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll make certain that his witch knows your instructions. She will make certain that he doesn't hurt himself."

Antonin glared, causing the young man to gulp audibly. A satisfied smirk appeared on Antonin's face when he realized he could still frighten his contractor.

"Excellent," replied the Healer. "I am signing his release papers. You are free to leave at any time, Mr. Dolohov."

When the Healer left the two men alone, Antonin turned to glare at Gregory once more.

"What does Hermione hold over your head that's been making you come here?" he asked.

Gregory shrugged his shoulders.

"I owe her a life debt," he explained. "When you didn't come home after two days and she read in the paper that you were injured, she made me come here. She told me that if I sat by your side and reported back to her how you were doing, she'd release me."

A life debt was no simple debt. Antonin was surprised to hear that his witch had used hers with Gregory to ensure that someone was available when he woke up from his unconsciousness. She could've forced Gregory to do a lot more than just visit a sick man in a hospital.

"I would've done it anyway," Gregory continued. "She has been so frightened for you. I'm sure she hasn't slept for days. At least this will put us on the same level again. Anything she needs help with in the future I can safely say that I'm doing because I want to, not because I have to."

The two men walked down the corridor to the lifts in silence. Antonin was finding that the more time he spent with Gary Goyle's son, the more he liked the young man. He was shaping up to be a much better human being than his father had ever dreamed of being. It was heartening to know that despite the disgusting sludge that his father was, Gregory had promise. They travelled to the Apparation foyer of the hospital without exchanging words. Antonin's magic still wasn't up to apparating on his own just yet so he had to rely on Side-Along with Gregory.

Antonin's ribs and chest were burning with pain when the squeezing stopped. The front door opened at the loud crack of their arrival. Hermione's face was covered in tears. She cautiously threw her arms around her wizard. Gregory quietly excused himself to give the couple some privacy. He promised to return the next day to check on them. Hermione removed her arms from Antonin long enough to throw them around Gregory.

"Thank you so much, Greg," she said. "I don't know if there's some formal way to do so, but I release you from your life debt."

He Disapparated with a smile.

"What do you need?" Hermione immediately asked.

"A long, hot shower."

He opened the front door and almost tripped over the damn dog. For the first time in their acquaintance, Hermione was the one to chastise the dog for doing something wrong. Argos slinked away from the living room with his tail between his legs.

"I don't think you should take a shower," Hermione said when they entered the bathroom.

Not in the mood for an argument of any kind, Antonin sighed.

"You need to rest. You shouldn't be on your feet for so long. Why don't you take a hot bath instead?"

"I don't want to take a bath."

"It'll feel good on your aches."

"Damn it, Hermione! I'm not a child!"

The witch placed both hands on her hips and glared.

"No, but I can put you in a full body bind and give you a cold sponge bath instead."

Antonin turned away from the shower and stalked over to the large bathtub.

"Damned impertinent, bossy witch!"

His words had little heat and he didn't miss her grin.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Thank you to all of my reviewers! Welcome to all the new Favorites and Followers! Thanks so much to everyone for sticking with this story._


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty Two

In the weeks following Antonin's release from St. Mungo's, Hermione learned a valuable lesson that would serve her well for the rest of her life. All men are babies when they are sick or injured. Her experience dealing with grumpy, irritable males was somewhat extensive if she counted all of the incidences in school and during their horcrux hunt when Harry or Ron was not at their finest. Add in Neville, another she couldn't help but mother and even on rare occasions, the Weasley twins, she had many years of nursing experience. Somehow she didn't expect to need her skills with Antonin.

Despite the fact that he was a convicted murderer many times over, a formidable and dangerous Death Eater that most only spoke of in hushed whispers, and despite the fact that he was almost fifty years old, he proved to be a frustrating and irascible patient. After only a couple of days of fighting with the man to remain in bed to allow his body to heal from the massive trauma he'd experienced at Azkaban, Hermione was sorely tempted to place him in a full body bind and hold a pillow over his face until he stopped breathing. At least then she might finally have some peace and quiet where she wasn't forced to listen to his complaining and whinging.

"You're growing sick of me, aren't you?" Antonin asked one evening at the very end of June. He'd finally grown strong enough to remove himself from their bed only to annoy her from the comfort of their living room sofa.

"No, of course not," she lied.

Antonin scoffed. She couldn't lie to him. And Hermione knew it. Her face was too expressive, too open. She crossed the living room with a tray filled with his dinner.

"I know I'm annoying you," he continued. "Because I'm annoying myself."

Hermione attempted to hide the rolling of her eyes from the wizard, but he was too perceptive. She really didn't want to argue with him any longer. It was growing tiresome. Antonin was a man who had grown to appreciate his freedom after spending almost a third of his life locked up behind bars in Azkaban prison. To suddenly have a witch breathing down his neck to stay confined to his bedroom was maddening. She could understand his frustration. _Understand_ , not excuse. Her patience with him, however, was growing thin. If he wasn't back to his usual self soon, she wasn't above drugging him with potions until a glimmer of the former Antonin returned.

" _Daragaya,_ come sit with me," he pleaded, patting the sofa next to him.

She settled down next to him, balancing the meal tray on their laps. He was growing stronger every day, but after the last trip to visit his healer was advised to remain as immobile as possible for another week at least. His three cracked and two broken ribs were taking a long time to heal. Hermione dutifully demanded to be allowed to accompany him on his follow-up visits. Knowing better than to argue with his witch, Antonin relented. She knew that he thought there was a conspiracy between his witch and his healer to keep him confined to their cottage unnecessarily, but she also knew that part of him enjoyed all of the attention he was receiving. How long had it been since anyone had taken care of him?

"This is delicious, Hermione," he said before taking another bite of the roast chicken from his plate.

"Thank you."

She felt her ears burn with the compliment and tried to keep her mouth shut. It wouldn't do any good to admit that she had been forced to seek outside help in order to provide him with an edible meal. Her mind had been elsewhere for weeks which had not helped her cooking in the slightest.

"I was wondering why Gregory was spending so much time in the kitchen earlier," he continued, winking in her direction. "I knew that story he told me about loose cabinets wasn't true."

"Yeah, well, who knew Greg was such a good cook?" she said, not caring that her subterfuge was discovered. "He is a wizard of some surprising talents."

"I will have to thank him when he comes back later this week. Did you at least pick up some tips?"

He was teasing her again and for the first time in several days, she found she was enjoying it. Obviously his mood was much improved. He was no longer complaining about the foul tasting potions she forced him to drink or the fact that he couldn't get comfortable with all of his injuries. Hermione desperately hoped he would be easier to live with in the coming days.

"Yes, I watched what he did," she replied. "Seems we are both beneficial for each other. He's more comfortable shopping in the Muggle market now. The first time I took him I thought he was going to have a heart attack around all of the Muggles."

"You know I don't like you going down to the village," he said, a scowl crossing his handsome face.

"I never go alone. Just Greg's sheer size is enough to intimidate anyone with nefarious deeds on their mind."

She playfully kissed his cheek. It seemed to soften his scowl just a tiny bit. He could be such a worrier when she wasn't within his sights.

"Would you prefer we go to wizarding markets instead? I didn't think you'd want me to be recognized."

"No, Muggle is better. I'll admit that."

They sat in silence for a few minutes while he continued to tuck in to his meal. When he was finished, ever the dutiful nurse, Hermione removed his tray to the kitchen. She had a terrible habit of sampling Greg's cooking as he went along and rarely was hungry when the meal was finally complete. Part of her was looking forward to Antonin being up and around again for the lovely meals they shared alone at their tiny kitchen table.

She returned to the living room to resume her place next to Antonin's side. Knowing that she was frustrated and not too happy with him at the moment, the wizard wrapped an arm around her shoulder to pull her down to his _almost_ completely healed chest. She lay there staring into the flames of the fireplace for several minutes with him without speaking.

"Should I be concerned about the amount of time you and Gregory have been spending alone together?" he teased.

Hermione snorted. This wasn't the first time he'd teased the two of them. It seemed to bring him a perverse sense of joy to see Greg's face turn bright red as he vehemently denied that anything was going on between the two.

"Absolutely not," she answered. "One, have you ever heard the boy talk about Astoria? He's head over heels in love with the girl. We spend more than half the time we spend together talking about her. 'Astoria says this' or 'Astoria likes that'. He's besotted. It's adorable."

Antonin kissed the top of her head.

"And two, even if there was the _slightest_ chance that he harbored any kind of feelings for me that were beyond platonic, he's scared to death of you, Antonin."

It was his turn to snort. He was well aware of the truth of that statement. How many months had he worked for them? And how many times had he insisted the boy call him 'Antonin' only for him to stammer and revert back to calling him 'Mr. Dolohov'?

"Good. He should be. There's nothing I'm not willing to do to protect my witch."

"You do realize that we are about to enter a new century, right? It's no longer necessary to behave like cavemen."

She tempered her retort with a swift kiss to his lips. Even when he annoyed the hell out of her, they both still enjoyed to small little displays of affection.

"It's a dangerous world out there, _daragaya_. Sometimes we have to be dangerous to survive."

An uneasy silence fell between them. Ever since he returned from St. Mungo's Hermione had been desperate for answers. She wanted to know what happened to him at Azkaban, wanted to know how he was injured so badly. She lost count the number of times she begged him to tell her at least _something_ about that night. He refused.

 _"Do not ask me to answer questions for you which you do not want to know the answers."_

She hated how patronizing he could be. Yes, she was young enough to be his daughter, a fact that made them both uncomfortable if they chose to dwell on it, but she wasn't some naïve, innocent little maiden. If anyone could understand the harshness of the world they lived in, it would be her. She watched her best friend die and soon after lost everyone else that she'd ever loved. Hermione understood all too well that the world was cruel, especially with Tom Riddle as Britain's de facto ruler.

The first night he had been coherent enough to have a conversation with she asked him point blank what happened. She didn't want to know how many people he killed. _That_ was certainly a question she didn't want the answer to. No, she simply wanted to understand who hurt him so severely and why. His injuries were personal. Whoever attacked him did so purposefully. The large boot print-shaped bruise was still visible even almost two weeks after the initial assault.

He was hiding something from her. Something big. She could see it in his eyes whenever she asked him about Azkaban. Hell, she could see it in his eyes even when she didn't. How many times had she caught him staring in her direction with an almost ashamed expression on his face? There was much, much more to this story than he was willing to divulge and it was driving her positively mad.

After about a week she felt certain that she knew what he had done. She finally understood what he was so averse to discussing. When she really thought about it, it was painfully obvious.

Antonin murdered Thorfinn.

It made perfect sense. His hatred for Rowle was well known since way before they were both drugged. Hadn't he made it clear when they first moved into the manor that he didn't care for the way that Thorfinn stared in her direction? Even his body language gave away how much he disliked the younger wizard. Antonin didn't even need to utter a word to make it known that he would like nothing more than for Thorfinn to be out of the picture permanently. He used to get territorial and jealous any time he heard that she had been alone with Thorfinn in the library. With the exception of the night of Rabastan's party, the most physical contact they'd made with each other when they were alone was a simple brush of the hand when he was passing her a drink. He saved the ardent greetings of double kisses on her cheeks for when he had an audience.

Antonin had been only seconds away from killing Thorfinn, and probably her too, the night she wished she could permanently expunge from her memory. If Reina hadn't been there in time to save her older brother, he would've been dead a lot sooner than the attack on Azkaban.

She asked him once after his high doses of pain potions were cut what happened to Thorfinn. Antonin evaded the question like a professional. He never outright came out and confessed that he killed Thorfinn, but he certainly wasn't forthcoming with answers about what happened to him.

 _"He's missing, presumed dead, Hermione. That's all I know. I saw him a couple of times when the fighting got bad, but I don't know."_

He protested too much. And he couldn't make eye contact. It seemed pointless to ask him the same question again. He'd already made it perfectly clear that he was willing to kill those who harmed her. While her evening with Thorfinn had been humiliating, she didn't blame the burly wizard. They were both victims of the fucking Carrows. Antonin proved that night that he would kill for her. He proved it again later when he killed Umbridge.

Yes, he was a dangerous wizard indeed. She knew it, but still, she couldn't imagine being anywhere else. Hermione snuggled into Antonin's embrace, focused on the fire and tried to ignore the feelings of doubt that plagued her mind.

* * *

Antonin was cleared to resume normal activities the second week of July. The timing couldn't have been more perfect for the unlikely couple. Any longer remaining in that tiny cottage with the inability to escape and they were both going to seriously snap. While they continued to grow closer each day, their relationship was under a great deal of strain the longer Antonin was forced to remain idle and bored.

His first summoning had been stressful for Hermione. Like she had countless times before, she walked him to the front door to kiss him goodbye. Somehow she'd learned how to forget the fact that he was leaving to go off and do the Dark Lord's bidding. It had become somewhat easy to live in denial of the kinds of activities he was forced to participate in. She waited in the living room for him to return for hours that first day. When he Apparated home just before dinner, she fussed and fretted over him the moment he walked in the door. He was all right. It had been a simple meeting, the details of which he would not divulge. Realizing that he had come home safely in one piece, she rather overenthusiastically threw her arms around him and welcomed him back in a manner he could absolutely become accustomed to.

They settled into a somewhat comfortable routine as the summer months continued. Antonin was frequently gone for days at a time or home suspiciously late at night. Because he always made an effort to clean his own robes and shower immediately after returning to their cottage, Hermione could delude herself into believing he wasn't doing anything wrong when he left abruptly or kept such strange hours. Part of her tried to pretend that his behavior was that of a man having a tawdry affair. It helped her a bit in her denial if she could pretend he wasn't out in the world torturing and likely murdering strangers or worse, people she might actually know.

They never discussed what he did or saw outside of the safety of their ocean view retreat. It was better that way. He continued to be evasive about the Battle for Azkaban, refusing to answer her questions. By August she stopped asking. Thorfinn still hadn't been found and she had come to terms with the knowledge that he likely never would. Antonin was nothing if not thorough. The night he poured Umbridge's ashes into the sea bore proof of that. The Ministry hadn't given up on their search for the horrid woman, but clues had been impossible to find.

By the end of August Hermione finally felt well and truly home inside her cottage with Antonin. She could almost forget that she was still technically his captive. They'd been out of Rabastan's manor for almost three glorious months. Their relationship had never been better. Poor Greg learned the lesson to always make certain his Apparation crack was deafening and his knock on the door clear. He'd walked in on Hermione in various stages of undress enough times that he was beginning to be unable to look the Gryffindor in the eyes.

The last day of August was unbearably hot. Hermione was looking forward to the cooler months and groaned every time she had to throw the bedcovers off at night. Summer was almost over. As she had the year before as the new term at Hogwarts was set to begin, she began to feel a bit melancholy. Antonin had grown used to her changes in mood. He was certainly one to understand depression.

"I'm going down to the water for a swim," she announced over breakfast.

"Want me to come with you?" Antonin asked, concern evident on his face.

"You don't have to. Argos can keep me company. I just can't bear the heat. Even our cooling charms aren't enough."

Silence fell between them. Antonin was well aware that her mood had little to do with the weather, but he knew better than to push her to talk.

"I asked Gregory to stop by for a few minutes this morning," Antonin announced when the comfortable silence had grown awkward.

"Why'd you do that, Antonin? It's his last day with Astoria before she starts her final year tomorrow. Can it not wait?"

Antonin washed his breakfast down with a swig of orange juice before continuing. While Hermione had grown to actually enjoy the Slytherin's presence (who would've ever guessed?), she knew he was growing sadder as the summer holidays drew to a close. The last thing she wanted was to take him away from his girlfriend for something she was certain could wait for another day.

"I won't give any details," he began. "But things are happening now that may take me away from here for a while. You may be left alone for several days at a time."

"Okay. I've been alone here before."

"I'm strengthening the wards so you and I will be the only ones able to Apparate here. While I have no reason to distrust Gregory, on the contrary, I've proven I trust him a great deal to leave you alone with him."

"All right. Are you going to make him portkeys again?"

It was inconvenient for Greg to have to wait for an authorized portkey from Antonin every time he was needed at the cottage, but Hermione could understand their benefit. Antonin was an exceedingly cautious man when it came to her safety.

"The attic is almost done and I'm sure Gregory will be moving on to other projects soon."

Hermione's shoulders visibly dropped at the reminder. While she and Greg had had absolutely nothing to do with each other in school past some bullying and childish name-calling, she'd grown to enjoy his time at the cottage. He had become a good friend after they were able to put their school years foolishness behind them. Intellectually she knew she'd clung to the young wizard because she was lonely for a friend, but her heart had opened to Draco's former crony all the same. On his own he was funny and thoughtful and a surprisingly good conversationalist. She'd spent six years believing he didn't even know how to speak full sentences. He had been patient enough to attempt to teach Hermione several of his mother's best recipes and he was even willing to brave Muggle villages with her. She was going to miss him dreadfully.

"I'm certain he will still come by to visit," Antonin assured her with a warm smile and a squeeze of her hand across the table. "And I'm going to adjust the wards so you are able to make him a portkey to come visit."

His words were enough to light up Hermione's features. Not only was her somewhat paranoid wizard trusting her with the ability to invite whoever she wanted to their home, but he made it clear that he would continue to encourage her friendship with the boy who could be rather shy and sweet away from his school mates.

"Thank you, Antonin. That means a great deal to me," she said, rising from the table to sit in his lap and kiss the man.

Argos frantically dashed from the kitchen towards the front door. Within moments they could hear the knocking at the front door. She placed a final kiss on her wizard's cheek and followed the dog to the living room. Before she could even get the door completely open Argos was already rushing out to greet the new arrival. The massive dog's oversized tail wagged incessantly in Greg's presence. It had only taken the Saint Bernard about three seconds the first time he met the man to decide he was an acceptable visitor. From that day on, he was an enthusiastic greeter and followed him around almost as much as he followed his mistress around. Greg wasted no time in bestowing belly scratches on the canine.

"All right, break it up, you two. You're making me jealous," she teased. "Come in, Greg. Antonin wants to talk to you about the wards and then we'll let you get back to Astoria."

Hermione winked at the blushing wizard. He was too easy at times. She smiled to put him at ease. Greg ruffled Argos' furry head once more before following the witch into the cottage.

* * *

Antonin was called away during the first week of September. He'd been hoping that the Dark Lord wouldn't have need of his specialized kinds of service until later on, but too many rumors were meeting the Ministry's ears that there were dozens of young British witches hiding in Russia. There was no way to tell how long he would be required to investigate the claims in the foreign country.

"Please be careful," Hermione begged him at the front door of their cottage. He had just returned from a meeting with the Dark Lord where he received his orders. Neither of them wanted him to leave. She had a terrible feeling in her gut that simply wouldn't go away. "I worry about you when you are gone."

"I will be fine, _daragaya_. I promise."

Knowing that he could be gone from his witch for weeks this time, Antonin took his time saying his goodbyes. Before she came into his life he would've eagerly met a mission that took him outside of Britain. He'd always enjoyed traveling. Used to dream of it when he was stuck inside the confines of Azkaban. A foreign mission always meant the chance to explore new locales and meet new, interesting people. Usually beautiful, foreign witches attracted to the aura of danger he possessed. Now that he finally had a witch waiting for him at home, he was less eager to run off.

"I've sent a message to Gregory," he continued. "He will be coming by daily to check on you. He was planning on coming by in the next week or so to do some touch-ups in the new bedroom upstairs, but he'll come by to make sure you are all right."

"That's not necessary, Antonin. I'm perfectly capable of being alone here."

She acted as if it bothered her that he was so protective of her, but in reality, she loved every possessive gesture and plea for her to take care of herself. It was nice to feel so cared for.

"I don't want you leaving the cottage without either Argos or Gregory with you. Will you promise me that?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I promise."

Their final goodbye kiss almost easily escalated into a great deal more. If he knew that there weren't others waiting on him to meet them in London, Antonin would've gladly given in to the heated moment. Hermione certainly was in no rush to see him off. It took a great deal of his self-control to be able to finally walk away from the beautiful woman standing in his doorway.

Hermione hated when she was alone. She had nine months of being by herself. Argos' presence was a great comfort. As she settled herself down on the sofa following her wizard's exit, she had the sense to be thankful that at least this time she wouldn't be stuck in Rabastan's manor while Antonin was travelling abroad. The twelve days she spent alone with Rabastan and his frequent guests were terrifying. If it hadn't been for Thorfinn she was well aware that she would've been at the mercy of some of the more disturbing Death Eaters.

She shook her head to banish any depressing thoughts. Lately any consideration of the blonde Death Eater made her sad. Despite the fact that their last encounter had been so humiliating, she was surprised to find that his death saddened her more than she thought. He used to be good company in Rabastan's manor when she grew sick of the younger Lestrange brother. Knowing that he was most likely dead by Antonin's hands made everything so much worse.

Argos chose that moment to lay his large head in her lap. His big brown eyes stared up at her with concern evident all over his face. Somehow he always knew when she was down and needed whatever comfort he could provide.

"Come on, big guy. Let's go down to the beach. It'll make us both feel better."

His tail began to wag furiously as she stood and headed for the door.

"Maybe this will finally be the day that you catch that damn bird."

* * *

A week into Antonin's absence Hermione was already weary of waking up alone in their great big bed. She usually managed to roll over to his side at some point in the night. His pillow always smelled like him: the almond and lime from his shaving cream she loved so much, the green apple from his favorite fruit that he couldn't get enough of, the grass smell that clung to him after he spent hours working outside in his little garden. It was an intoxicating mixture that reminded her entirely of the man.

Argos nudged her in the side with his nose. He was a creature of habit and had grown accustomed to breakfast being served at the same time each morning. Apparently she wasn't the only one who had grown spoiled by Rosie and the other house elves. Sleeping in was almost impossible with the dog that loved to eat. Antonin was always an early riser and usually took care of filling his bowl with the smelly food he couldn't get enough of. Without her wizard there to care for her dog, she was forced to wake up earlier each morning than she was used to waking.

"All right, all right," she grumbled. He had been insistently pushing her with his nose for at least a few minutes. "Come on, Argos."

He ran around in excited circles as she pulled herself out of the comfort of her bed. Hermione took her time putting her slippers on and wrapping a light robe over her pajamas. The dog bounced on his back paws at the bedroom door waiting impatiently. She pulled the door open and the dog shot out of the bedroom like a bullet from a gun. Rolling her eyes at his expression by his food bowl, Hermione tipped in his usual amount of dog food. The silence of the tiny kitchen was soon filled with the feverish sounds of breakfast.

Greg had promised to be by the cottage around ten that morning. He had finally turned the unfinished attic into a completed spare bedroom with an adorable little connected bathroom. She knew she had bullied him and pestered him in the months it took to get the project finished, but they were all pleased with the results. There were just a few little touch-ups he needed to complete before he would call the renovation of their seaside cottage finally finished. They'd gone through the attic area the day before to make a list. While she was certainly eager for the renovations to be done, she didn't like to think that Greg would be coming by less often. He'd been faithful in his promise to Antonin to check on her every single day in the previous week even if it was just long enough to enjoy a quick cup of tea.

Hermione was just filling up the kettle when the sound of a hard knock on the front door sounded throughout the cottage. A quick glance at the clock above the stove showed the time to only be half past eight. Greg was early. It was a testament to how much her dog loved her friend that Argos was willing to leave half of the food in his bowl to run full speed to the front door. He stood in front of the door wagging his tail hard enough that she was concerned for a moment that he would fall over.

"Move out of the way!"

Argos scooted a few inches from the front door. Not enough to really make a difference, but enough that he couldn't be accused of not following his mistress' commands. It was no secret who was waiting on the other side of the door. Greg was the only able to breach their wards with the portkey Hermione had given him the day before. Hermione pulled the door open to reveal her guest standing on the front steps.

"Good morning, Greg. Come on in."

The wizard followed her in without delay. Argos stood waiting for his customary scratches and was sorely disappointed when Greg brushed past him without a second glance.

"Excuse the pajamas," Hermione said. "I wasn't expecting you for another hour or so. Everything all right?"

Greg had been looking around the living room ignoring the little whines coming from Argos' direction. Something seemed off about the man. Hermione couldn't explain why, but she didn't like the way he was staring at her.

"Sorry. Just thought I'd come by early. I've got somewhere to be later."

"Oh, okay."

Greg and Hermione both jumped when Argos started growling. The wizard narrowed his eyes and glared at the dog. Hermione was shocked. She'd never heard Argos make an aggressive sound in the seven months that she'd known him. He never growled at anyone.

"Argos! That's enough!"

The dog ceased growling, but kept his eyes focused on Greg. He lay down on the floor with his head cradled by his outstretched paws, his eyes never leaving the young wizard.

"That's strange," Hermione said, laughing off the behavior despite it unnerving her more than she cared to admit. "Want to head up to the attic now?"

"In a minute. Is Antonin back yet?"

Hermione's ears perked up at the casual way that Greg used Antonin's name. How many times had he called Antonin 'Mr. Dolohov' only to have Antonin tell him it was all right to address him by his first name? Greg still wouldn't. Privately he told Hermione that despite all of the time he'd spent at their cottage, he still was intimidated by the Death Eater his father always warned him about. She took a moment to examine the young wizard. Something about him seemed different. He was usually only nervous when Antonin was around, never when they were alone.

"No, he's not back yet. Are you all right, Greg? You don't seem like yourself."

Those last five words exiting Hermione's mouth set the wizard off. Before she had time to even reach for the wand she carried in the pocket of her bathrobe, it was flying across the room. Greg clutched it in his hands. An unnerving smile crossed his face at the realization that she was unarmed.

"Greg, what are…"

Argos leapt up from the floor to put his body in front of Hermione. In yet another uncharacteristic move, he bared his teeth and began to growl again. He backed up until his rear was pressed up against Hermione's legs.

"Did you think I was just going to let you both get away with what you did to my brother?"

Hermione felt her stomach clench. She didn't consider herself a polyjuice expert, but she was familiar enough with the substance to realize that the person standing in her living room looking like Greg wasn't him at all. Perhaps she had been too naïve to assume that Alecto Carrow wouldn't come seeking retribution for the killing of her brother. She was the easier target by far. Antonin was always on edge around the woman and wouldn't hesitate to put her down exactly as he'd done her sibling. Coming to Hermione alone in the guise of someone she trusted was an excellent plan even if she had to give the bitch credit. She never expected Greg to be the instrument in her death.

"I knew if I was just patient enough that eventually I would be able to get you alone," Alecto continued. "Antonin hasn't made it easy. He keeps you well protected."

"Yes, he does," Hermione replied. "And I'm expecting him home any minute. You don't want to be caught here when he gets here."

Alecto laughed. The sound was bizarre coming out of Greg's mouth. Over the past several months she'd grown accustomed to his quiet laugh. Hearing Alecto laugh made her entire body erupt into terrified goosebumps.

"Antonin is still in Russia. Do you think I would be stupid enough to come here without being positive he wouldn't be back?"

She was well and truly fucked. Alecto had hated her for a very long time. She wasn't about to be merciful now that she finally had her in her grasp.

"Antonin killed the most important person in my life. I think it only fair that I do the same to him."

"You know, Antonin and I always wondered about you two. Must have been hard for you since your brother died. Guess your bed's grown a bit too cold for your liking."

She wasn't sure what caused her mouth to run away with her, but it didn't seem to matter. Alecto was going to kill her regardless of whether she remained silent or not. The moment the bitch was able to figure out exactly what Hermione was implying she had her wand out. Her face, or rather Greg's face, was bright red.

"How dare you your filthy, Mudblood mouth speak about my brother!"

Alecto hurled a hex directly at Hermione's chest. Without her wand she had no way to deflect the curse. She felt it strike her right in the lungs and immediately she was thrown backwards into the fireplace. Her head smashed into the hard, wooden mantle. When her body crumpled to the ground she found concentrating on what was happening in the room almost impossible. She was dizzy and her eyes couldn't focus.

"We'll see how Antonin likes it when I kill you!"

In the corner of Hermione's eye she could see Alecto raise her wand once more in her direction. She closed her eyes, waiting for the final curse to be flung in her direction. It was only a matter of time. Her thoughts were of Antonin. The poor man wasn't going to know what happened when he finally came home and pushed open the door expecting her open and waiting arms.

Argos' growl and Alecto's frightened scream ringing through the living room forced her eyes back open. Hermione still couldn't see everything that was happening. She couldn't lift her head up and what she could see was doubled. In a matter of moments she witnessed two massive Saint Bernards hurl themselves at two disguised wizards. Both Alectos were screaming as both dogs clamped their jaws down on her neck. The harsh scent of fresh blood filled Hermione's nostrils. Seconds that felt like hours passed before the sound of Alecto struggling to breathe through her ruined neck ceased.

Hermione struggled to keep her eyes open. Argos rushed to her side to prod her with his nose. His concerned whine gave her enough strength to meet his worried expression. Blood was still dripping from his mouth. Her wand was clenched between his teeth. He dropped it on her stomach before returning to Alecto's corpse. She could hear him moving around, pushing his nose around the woman's body. He returned with the empty butterbeer bottle that she'd made into a portkey the day before. How could the dog understand what both her wand and the portkey were?

Argos whined and continued to prod her with his nose. Hermione could no longer keep her eyes open. She knew she needed a healer, but she couldn't move. Whatever curse Alecto sent to her chest mixed with the bump on her head kept her rooted on the floor. She was beginning to slip in and out of consciousness. Her situation was becoming dire.

She could've sworn that she heard a quiet whisper, but couldn't be certain it wasn't a dream. Her body suddenly felt weightless, hovering in the air, warm arms encircled around her. She was certain she was hallucinating. Something was thrust in her hands and she felt a hook in her navel. At some point in the midst of the swirling, she fainted.

Hermione came to on the sofa in an unfamiliar living room. Argos sat on the floor next to her watching her every move. His fur was stained with Alecto's blood. It still looked fresh. She couldn't have been out of it for very long. Turning her head was agony, but she forced herself to move to survey the room. In the corner of her eye she could see Greg lying on the carpet. He could've been stunned or simply dead, she couldn't bear to know which.

Her wand was lying on her stomach. She picked it up and remembering the moment she and Antonin finally were together on the hard, uncomfortable floor of their cottage, she cast her patronus. The silver otter flew out of her wand taking most of her remaining strength with it. She was able to give the animal a message before it floated away. Her eyes grew heavy. She closed them and gave in to the darkness.


	23. Chapter 23

_Author's Note: Wow! I cannot believe the response for the last chapter. Thank you all so much for you wonderful reviews! I never,_ ever _do this, but I've decided to change up my outline. My original plan was to make Ch.23 an Antonin chapter and wait until Ch. 24 to show what happens to Hermione, but I see now that would just be cruel. : ) Thanks again for all of the reviews! They really motivate me to write faster._

Chapter Twenty Three

Every single muscle in Hermione's body ached. She could feel that she was lying in a somewhat comfortable bed, but didn't have the strength to open her eyes. Or maybe she was simply afraid. She couldn't remember anything since the moment she sent her patronus. Everything was a blur. Disjointed images flashed through her mind that didn't make any sense.

She knew Alecto Carrow was responsible once more for the situation she found herself in. The incessant pounding in her head was because the stupid bitch couldn't seem to understand that Antonin wanted nothing to do with her. Somehow Hermione doubted that the woman fantasized about Antonin climbing into her bed after the night that he killed her beloved brother, but the woman was still obsessed with causing him pain.

A familiar whining made Hermione open her eyes. Her poor dog was anxious and worried about her. His feelings were written all over his furry, adorable face. She made herself roll over onto her side despite the pain coursing through her entire body to rub his head. Despite the pain, a warm smile crossed her face when the dog began to wag his tail.

"We will be all right here, Argos," she assured the dog. Unlike Antonin, she never felt foolish speaking to Argos. Somehow she knew he understood. He was no ordinary dog that was certain. "As soon as we figure out where _here_ is exactly."

She forced herself to look around the space. Nothing was familiar. It appeared to be an ordinary guest room in a modest house she had never stepped foot in before. She sort of remembered waking up in what she assumed was Greg's house, but she couldn't be sure of anything. She might have been asleep for days.

The door to the bedroom opened slowly. Hermione was surprised by Argos' sudden movement. He leapt on to the bed and laid his entire body next to hers, his teeth bared and a quiet growl escaping his muzzle. He'd already proven himself capable of killing to protect his mistress. Hermione sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that again, but couldn't deny the comfort she experienced feeling the dog next to her.

"It's all right, sweet boy," the voice said. "I'm not here to harm Hermione."

Hermione turned her face to make eye contact with a smiling Reina Rowle. The slightly older Hufflepuff looked exhausted and excited to see that she was awake all at once. Memories of sending her patronus to the girl while she lay on the sofa came back. Reina wasn't the first person she thought of. Antonin was still out of the country. He would never have received her message or been able to return if he had. She didn't know who in the Order might still be alive and willing to help. If Thorfinn had still been alive she would've tried to contact him. Despite their history she was positive he would've done everything in his power to find her if she asked. It was thinking about him that made her remember his sister. Antonin had done her a huge favor. Perhaps she would be willing to do one too.

"Hermione! I'm so pleased to see you are awake."

Reina crossed the room to the side of the bed not occupied by the massive Saint Bernard. She was carrying a steaming bowl in her hands.

"I've brought you some soup. It's so much easier to feed you when you're awake," Reina said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Hermione tried to sit up, but she was simply too weak. Reina helped by pushing another pillow behind her back. At least she was propped up enough to eat the soup Reina fed her without spilling it down the front of her pajamas. The other witch was gentle and careful.

"Where am I, Reina?" she asked.

"You are among friends. That's all I can really tell you right now."

"Is this a Resistance house?"

Reina smiled.

"No, not exactly," she answered. "But don't worry. You're safe here."

Hermione wasn't satisfied with her answer. Somehow she knew it was as good an explanation as she was going to get. She had grown used to dealing with secrets and half-truths. Living with a Death Eater meant secrets were a part of life.

"Reina, what happened? I don't remember much."

She continued to feed Hermione without answering the question. The uncomfortable silence persisted for several awkward minutes.

"Lucius and I were having a late breakfast when your patronus showed up," she finally explained. "Scared Lucius half to death! Dropped his teacup, poor thing. He's used to several different patronuses flitting in and out at random times, but yours was a surprise. Thankfully, he is very familiar with where the Goyles live. Personally, I'd much rather burn the place down with the whole damn family in it."

"No," Hermione protested. "Greg is a sweet man. He can't help who his father is."

"Maybe not, but I remember him from school. Wasn't always the nicest boy, was he?"

She couldn't argue with the woman. Greg had been one of the worst bullies during her years at Hogwarts. He was even almost responsible for killing her and her two best friends on the day of the final battle.

"No one was home or so it seemed," she continued. "But Lucius was able to enter. He and Gary have been friends for years. I thought it might be a trap. I was really nervous. Couldn't understand why you would be sending me a request for help."

"Antonin isn't in the country." Her cheeks flushed red. "I was thinking about your brother. Thinking that if he were still alive he'd come for me."

Reina placed her hand on top of Hermione's to give it a reassuring squeeze. When the younger witch lifted her eyes to meet the kind, piercing blue eyes so like her brother's, Reina smiled again.

"I'm certain he would," she agreed. "Finnie always had a soft spot for you, but I think you already knew that."

Hermione suddenly found the floral pattern of the bedspread very interesting.

"Well, that explains why you sent it to me. I'm glad that you did."

"Is Greg…" She was scared to finish her sentence. From the moment she saw him lying in the floor of his parents' living room, she'd been afraid to know the truth about his condition.

"He was just stunned. We were able to reenervate him."

She released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Hot tears rolled out of her eyes but she didn't bother to wipe them away.

"He will be just fine. Said that Alecto Carrow knocked on his front door and placed him under the Imperius Curse. Made him tell her how to get to your cottage. He gave her the portkey and then stunned him. After that, we're not sure what happened. Kind of hoping you could tell us. Greg wasn't sure how you and Argos made it back to his house or why Argos was covered in blood."

"Alecto came to the cottage looking like Greg. She must've had polyjuice potion. I thought Greg was acting weird and as soon as I said something, she disarmed me. She attacked me and Argos ripped her throat out."

Reina gasped and then turned to the dog. Argos had his head lying in Hermione's lap, his special way of showing her support. The blonde witch smiled and began scratching the dog's belly much to his extreme pleasure.

"What a good boy!" She laughed. "Did you protect your mummy from that nasty witch?"

"I don't know how we got here though. It's all fuzzy."

"Greg found your portkey. You must have reactivated it and brought Argos with you."

They were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Reina invited whomever it was to enter. Lucius Malfoy entered with several vials of potions in his hands. Hermione didn't miss the warm looks that passed between the two.

"Ahh, Miss Granger, it is lovely to see you awake," he greeted.

"Thank you. How long have I been asleep?"

"You have been here a little over a day."

Reina stood up from the bed with the empty soup bowl in her hands. She walked around the bed towards the door. Before she excused herself from the room she scratched Argos on the head and placed a quick kiss on Lucius' lips. The wizard's cheeks blushed the tiniest hint of pink and his eyes cut to the injured woman on the bed. Public displays of affection were obviously not something he was comfortable with.

"I'll be back in a little while to check on you, Hermione. Try to get some rest."

Before Hermione could protest her exit, she was suddenly alone in the bedroom with Lucius. Feeling as self-conscious as she was, Lucius moved around the bed to stand next to her prone form.

"How is your head feeling?" he asked.

"Like it weighs a million pounds."

He chuckled and handed her a small vial of blue liquid.

"Take this. It will help."

While she choked down the disgusting potion, he placed the other vials on the nightstand. He conjured a chair and pulled it up next to the bed.

"I ran some diagnostic spells on you when we found you at the Goyles' house," he began. "You do not appear to have any lasting damage. You should be fine after some rest. Unfortunately, there is not a counter curse to what Alecto used on you. It will just have to wear off with time. The next several days you may experience shortness of breath if you try to move too much."

"Thank you for helping."

"No need to thank me, Miss Granger. Antonin saved my witch. It is only fair that I save his."

Lucius took the empty vial out of her hand and replaced it with another vial with a purple potion. She remembered all of the lessons she took with Professor Snape and Mad-Eye Moody telling her to always check food or potions given to her by someone else, but she found that she wasn't worried that Lucius was trying to poison her. Somehow she knew he could be trusted.

"I was there that night in Inverness," Lucius announced, causing Hermione to almost choke on the potion.

"Excuse me."

"One of my contacts at the Ministry informed me the day they put the tracking spell on Bella's old wand. I knew it would only be a matter of time before you used it," he explained. "I made it a point to spend as much time at Rabastan's manor as possible. I knew Antonin would be there and Runcorn would inform him first."

"I had no idea."

She stared at the blonde wizard. How much different could her life have been if Lucius had been the one to find her that night instead of Antonin?

"I was at the manor when Antonin got the floo call from Runcorn. He told him that you were traced just outside Inverness. I put a tracking spell on Antonin to be able to follow him. He was too preoccupied to notice the spell. He is a powerful wizard, but he can be easily distracted at times."

Hermione knew that was true. Forgetting all of the times he forgot what he was saying when she started changing clothes or did something as simple as bend over, he had been easily distracted during duels before that almost got him killed. According to Harry he was able to put him in a full body bind at the Ministry when Rabastan came running in the room with a baby-sized head and then again when he was distracted by Sirius.

"I asked an acquaintance of mine from the area to meet me there. I assumed that were I to approach you in a pub you would not listen to a word I said, let alone agreed to leave with me."

"You would be correct," she agreed. "I probably would've told you to 'fuck off' and then run out of there."

She half-expected him to be insulted by her remark. When he started laughing, Hermione couldn't help but join in.

"Yes, well, that is why I had the foresight to ask Mr. Sloane to meet you at the pub."

"Ryan? What happened to him? I was worried that Antonin or Runcorn might have hurt him."

"He was fine. Managed to get away and follow you. He saw you get caught. I was able to hear you. I was hiding in a nearby garden. If you had not slipped on that ice, I probably could have saved you."

An awkward stillness fell in the bedroom. Hermione wondered again how different her life would've been if she hadn't slipped on that damn ice.

"Yes, well, anyway, Mr. Sloane was fine. He tried to help Kingsley and Mr. Weasley take down Antonin at Azkaban. Antonin knocked him out, but he is fine."

"Wait, what? Which Weasley? And he and Kingsley attacked Antonin?"

"Bill Weasley. He sought out Antonin during the battle to find out your whereabouts. Stomped on his chest from what I heard. Kingsley and Mr. Sloane showed up to help. Demanded he surrender and taken them to you. They were very concerned about you."

Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. Kingsley and Bill specifically sought out Antonin to find out where she was? Why didn't he tell her? She assumed that the injuries he sustained were because of some fierce fight with Thorfinn. Was the reason that Antonin never told her that the leaders of the Resistance were searching for her was because he wanted her to continue believing that no one on the other side was interesting in finding her? She'd spent months believing that no one wanted to find her. Had Antonin been lying to her all this time? Is that why he never wanted to tell her what really happened that night at Azkaban?

"I didn't know that Kingsley and Bill were the ones that attacked Antonin."

"Yes, and from what I learned after the fact, Kingsley hit him with several of those horrible Auror spells they used during the first war so many years ago. Nasty side effects."

"What kind?"

It seemed to take an unusually long time for Antonin's injuries to heal. She'd been surprised when the Healers at St. Mungo's hadn't been able to heal him with magic as quickly as she thought they should've been able to. Maybe it wasn't incompetence like she initially thought.

"He was supposed to slowly die from his injuries. Kingsley cursed him so that he would not heal."

"I wasn't aware the Resistance resorted to such barbaric curses."

She couldn't help but be angry with Kingsley's actions against her wizard.

"We are in the midst of a war, Miss Granger. Neither side is above such tactics."

She didn't know what to say in response. Of course Antonin and the other Death Eaters weren't exactly sending harmless tickle charms in the direction of their enemies. The truth was she didn't _want_ to know what Antonin did when he stepped outside of their cottage. Denial was easier to live with than the truth. Besides, it wasn't exactly as if they had the healthiest relationship to begin with. She chose to overlook his activities for the Dark Lord. It made life easier to not know.

"I heard you telling Reina about what happened with Alecto," Lucius said, obviously anxious to change the subject. "I cannot say I was surprised that she came back to attack you. Honestly, I was surprised she had not tried to do so sooner."

"So was I. She was almost successful."

"It appears that you have a rather special dog willing to do whatever it takes to protect you."

Lucius stood up from his chair and made it disappear with a wave of his wand. He pushed the last few vials into her hands.

"Please take the rest of these potions and try to get some rest, Miss Granger. You need all that you can get."

* * *

Hermione woke up some time later. She couldn't see a clock. All she knew was that it was currently dark outside the window of the bedroom. Argos was asleep at the foot of the bed. He stirred just a bit when she woke up, but like usual, he was able to fall back asleep with little effort. She was pleased to find that her body felt much better. Breathing was still a bit difficult. Her vision was much improved and her head no longer felt like it was going to roll off of her neck due to its massive weight.

She carefully pulled herself out of the bed. Her legs felt a bit weak, but she needed the loo. Argos watched her slowly cross the room to the bedroom door with a concerned expression on his face. Hermione ordered him to stay put. She was certain she would be all right.

The short trip to the bathroom down the narrow hall left her feeling out of breath and a bit shaky. Before she was willing to make the return, she sat down on a trunk set out in the middle of the corridor. Most of the house was dark and it still wasn't clear where she was. She hadn't seen anyone other than Lucius or Reina. It took her a few minutes to catch her breath. Right as she was ready to stand back up to return to the bedroom, voices carried up the staircase from the ground floor.

"She can't stay here any longer," an unfamiliar voice said. Whoever it was sounded annoyed that they were even there in the first place.

"Please give us a little bit longer, Calliope," Reina begged. "I'm still trying to find somewhere else she can stay."

"I don't care where she goes. She just can't stay here."

The only Calliope Hermione had ever met was a Hufflepuff a few years older than her. She hadn't interacted with her very often at Hogwarts, but seemed to remember she was related to Zacharias Smith somehow. Older sister or cousin, maybe. That wasn't exactly a ringing endorsement for the woman.

"She's still injured. Can you give us a couple more days?"

"Absolutely not! You don't seem to grasp the danger you are putting me in by having that girl in this house. If my husband found out…"

"He won't find out. You said he and your kids are visiting his mother until the end of the week. We won't be here that long. Just need two more days at most."

"The last thing I need is to have a bunch of Death Eaters beating down my door looking for her."

Reina groaned.

"Do you know what they call her, Reina? They call her 'Dolohov's Whore'."

"That's not fair, Calliope."

"He's dangerous! My husband's cousin is married to Albert Runcorn. She told me that when Rabastan Lestrange threw his big party that Granger walked around like she owned the place. She seemed really comfortable there."

"That's because she lived there at the time."

"Yes, she lived there amongst all of those Death Eaters. Cerise said that she was very friendly with some of the more frightening Death Eaters. Greeted them and even allowed them to touch her."

Hermione could feel her cheeks flush with memories of that night. Yes, there were several Death Eaters who had been daring enough to lay a hand on her despite her relationship with Antonin, but no, she didn't _allow_ them. Gary Goyle and Vincent Crabbe always made an effort to touch her when Antonin wasn't around. She hated every moment of it. She had to practically run in the opposite direction from Walden to make certain he didn't try to start what Thorfinn was able to prevent the night on the stairs. Yet again Hermione was finding that she didn't exactly care for the members of the Smith family.

"There are rumors about her, Reina. They aren't good either."

"Yeah, like what?"

"That maybe she wasn't really missing all of those months after the final battle. Some believe that she wasn't actually helping Harry Potter. They say that she was actively working against him. Have you checked her left arm? Is she Marked?"

Instead of being insulted on Hermione's behalf, Reina actually burst out laughing at the ridiculous accusation that Hermione herself might be a faithful servant of the Dark Lord. Hermione found the corners of her own mouth twitching at the thought of the insane rumors.

"You laugh, Reina, but there are a lot of people who think that she hasn't exactly been telling the truth about her involvement. She is singlehandedly responsible for my cousin being in Azkaban right now."

"Now that's just ridiculous, Calliope. Hermione didn't force Zacharias to join Dumbledore's Army. He made that decision all on his own."

"Even at Hogwarts she seemed to have an unhealthy fascination with dark wizards. I know he's your brother, but she used to follow Thorfinn around everywhere."

"She wasn't following him. You just had a terrible habit of shagging him all over the castle and the grounds."

"Even as a first year she had a demented little crush on your brother. Why else was she always turning up in just the same place he was? Probably been a Death Eater groupie from the very beginning."

Both women stopped talking for a few moments. Hermione would've been insulted by the woman if she cared one bit for her opinion. Just as her cousin meant nothing to her, so too did Calliope. While she was grateful that she was willing to have her in her home, she was anxious to be out from under her roof. She had no desire to be indebted to that woman. Part of her would be willing to walk outside alone, unarmed and in her pajamas than suffer that horrid woman's ignorant aspersions and sentiments.

"You needn't worry about Hermione any longer, Calliope," Reina finally said. "We will remove her from your home in the morning. I'm certain she would rather sleep in a tree in the Forbidden Forest than be here a moment longer than necessary."

Hermione rose from her seat on the trunk and rushed towards her bedroom. By the time she made it back to the bed, she was out of breath and breathing heavily. She slipped under the covers with only moments to spare before Reina entered the room to check on her. She pretended to be asleep not wishing to let it be known she was eavesdropping.

* * *

A gentle hand shook her awake early the next morning. The potions she'd imbibed the night before made waking up a bit difficult. Reina greeted her with a warm smile and a light breakfast. Argos was already eating noisily in the corner. Hermione felt that if she weren't careful, the dog might be willing to trade his alliance to the pretty blonde. She frequently made the effort to show her appreciation to the large animal.

"Hermione, Lucius and I are going to take you and Argos somewhere else this morning," she announced.

She struggled to sit up. Reina gently pushed her back down.

"Save your strength for now. We are going to have to take a trip."

"Where are we going, Reina? I thought I was going to stay here a few days."

"Yes, well, there's been a change of plans. It's no longer possible for us to keep you here."

She wasn't going to provide an explanation, but it was all right. Hermione had heard all she needed to the night before.

"Hermione, I need you to trust me."

"Of course I trust you, Reina. Why else would I have asked for your help when I needed it?"

"I can't tell you where we are taking you. It's a rather large secret, I'm afraid."

Reina refused to meet Hermione's eyes when she spoke. Normally the young woman was open and quick to make eye contact. Her change in behavior made Hermione nervous. What could be such a large secret that she couldn't even tell her where she was going?

An hour later Hermione was dressed in the pajamas she was found in the day of the attack. Reina had them cleaned. Not wishing to leave Calliope's home with any of her belongings, Hermione gladly pulled the familiar and loved purple pajamas back on. Argos seemed just as anxious to leave as she felt.

"Let's go down into the back garden to Apparate," Reina suggested.

The two women and the dog met Lucius downstairs. Not once did Hermione see the owner of the home she'd been staying in, but she didn't mind. Anyone who would willingly accuse her of betraying Harry wasn't worth her time. If she ever saw Calliope again under different circumstances, she would be throwing the conversation she heard in the horrible woman's face.

"We are going to Apparate to an area I'm certain you've never been before, Hermione," said Reina. "I think it best if you Side-Along with Lucius and I carry Argos."

She immediately placed a similar charm on Argos that Antonin used before to move him from the manor. His one hundred seventy-five pounds reduced almost immediately to a much lighter weight. Argos gladly allowed the animal lover to pick him up. Hermione wrapped her arm around Lucius' offered arm. Moments later the four of them were standing in a dark forest. The squeeze of the Apparation made Hermione dizzy and breathless. Lucius prevented her from crumpling to the ground. He deftly lifted her up in his arms. She wanted to protest, but the swirling in her head stopped her.

"There are wards preventing Apparation for a short distance," Lucius explained. "I am not sure that you are up to journey in your condition."

"I'm fine!" she insisted. "Please put me down. I'm not an invalid."

It was obvious that he was reluctant to put her down. With a nod from Reina, Lucius set Hermione down on her feet. He refused to relinquish hold of her arm however as they began walking through the forest. Her three companions kept their pace slow to accommodate her. Alecto's curse was designed to squeeze the air out of her lungs. It was painful and she had to stop multiple times to catch her breath. Lucius continued to assure her that the effects were temporary. A few more days and she would likely be back to normal.

They walked in silence. The further they walked, the more nervous she became. Both Lucius and Reina pulling out their wands didn't make her feel any more at ease. Where were they taking her? Part of her wanted them to take her back to her cottage. What would Antonin think when he arrived home to find nothing but Alecto's corpse? She knew though that her home had been compromised. It wouldn't be safe again until Antonin returned and no one was sure when that would be. She had no way of contacting him. If Alecto was successful in getting to her, there was no telling who else could be as well. There were still plenty of Death Eaters out there who didn't care much for her or her position with Antonin. All she could imagine was the thought of Walden Macnair showing up unexpectedly to their cottage. Yes, perhaps a temporary hiding place would be a good idea.

She wasn't sure what constituted a 'short distance' in Lucius' estimation, but it didn't take long before Hermione wished she hadn't demanded that the wizard put her down. The walk through the dark and somewhat creepy forest began to feel like it would never end.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"My father used to come to these woods to hunt," Reina explained. "There is a small hunter's cabin just past those trees up ahead. He was fairly protective of his hunting spots, so it's pretty well protected with wards and other enchantments."

Only a few minutes later a small cabin finally came into view. It looked rundown and abandoned. She soon realized that it was simply a glamour to discourage would-be visitors from stumbling up on it. They stepped through a ring of wards only to see the cabin turn into a rather quaint and somewhat adorable building. Hermione could see smoke rising from the chimney as if someone was already there.

"Do you remember me asking you to trust me, Hermione?" asked Reina when they reached the front door of the cabin.

She nodded her head, suddenly feeling nervous.

"All right then."

Reina knocked on the front door with a series of three distinctive raps. Several moments passed before the door opened. Hermione gasped and felt her knees weaken. She would've fallen to the ground but for the strong arms that were around her in a moment. Her head rested against a rather broad chest.

"Good morning, Princess. I'm not sure I've ever made a witch _literally_ weak in the knees before."

Thorfinn Rowle was not dead. He was standing in the doorway of a hunting cabin clutching Hermione to his chest. She looked up into his amused blue eyes and found herself both annoyed and pleased by his presence.

"What do I owe this unexpected visit?" he asked.

"Hermione needs a safe place to stay for a little while," Reina explained.

"She has been injured and requires some assistance," added Lucius.

"Did you get yourself into some trouble again, Princess? If you were my witch, I would never allow you out of my sights. You are a bit accident prone."

Hermione snorted. Antonin made their cottage as impenetrable and protected as possible and she _still_ was attacked. Maybe there was something to Thorfinn's teasing.

"Can you take care of her, Finnie?" his sister asked. "We can't take her anywhere else."

"You don't even have to ask. Of course I will."

Thorfinn carefully carried Hermione into the small cabin. From the comfort of his arms she could make out a very simple room. In the corner furthest from the large stone fireplace was a double bed. He gently laid her down on top of the bottom sheet and pulled the covers up over her body. Lucius and Reina followed them both inside. Argos wasted no time sniffing everything he could in the small cabin.

"So what happened to you?" Thorfinn asked, concern evident in his voice.

"I should ask you the same question," Hermione retorted. "Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

He laughed in the same manner he'd laughed all of those times they hid in the library from the other guests of Rabastan's. It warmed her heart to hear it again. With the unpleasantness and the awkwardness of their last encounter, she'd forgotten how much she enjoyed his company.

"No, I'm afraid they officially had me as 'Missing, _Presumed_ Dead'," he corrected. "I've actually been here most of the time. Injured at Azkaban, I'm afraid. Thankfully my little sister found me. Probably wouldn't have died from my injuries, but it gave her an opportunity to fake my death and hide me away."

"Are you working for the Resistance too?"

Everyone else in the room laughed at the question. It wasn't amusement or humor, but a touch of bitterness that tinged the sounds of mirth.

"I'm not exactly a welcome addition to the ranks of the rebels, Princess," Thorfinn answered.

"We are a low priority with the Resistance," Reina added. "Lucius is respected amongst the others, but I'm afraid the Rowles are looked down on a bit. We're not considered trustworthy. Even if we were to offer Thorfinn's expertise, they wouldn't be interested. Too many Gryffindors in charge in my opinion."

This was obviously a topic that angered the Hufflepuff. Sensing an uncomfortable discussion about to begin, her brother repeated his earlier question.

"I was attacked by Alecto Carrow," Hermione said.

"Fucking cunt! I knew she wouldn't just leave you alone. Antonin should've killed her the night he killed her brother."

"Yeah, well, Argos took care of her."

Thorfinn turned his attention to the Saint Bernard sitting next to the bed. At the mention of his name, Argos sat up straighter.

"She attacked me and Argos ripped her throat out with his teeth. She didn't last long."

A wicked grin crossed Thorfinn's face. He knelt in front of the dog and began to furiously scratch the proud canine's head.

"Good dog, Argos. The next time I'm at the market I'm going to pick you up a big, juicy steak. Would you like that?"

His wagging tail answered the question. While she lived at the manor, Argos was usually ignored by the burly blonde. Knowing that the dog was responsible for saving Hermione's life put him into a completely different light.

"We need to get going, Finnie," Reina said. "Lucius has some potions for Hermione. She needs to rest as much as possible for the next several days. I'll come by later with more supplies."

Reina kissed her brother goodbye. Lucius shook his hand before handing over several vials with instructions. He escorted them to the front door and reactivated the wards protecting the cabin.

"Alone at last," Thorfinn said, winking at Hermione.

"I'm sorry to intrude on your solitude, Thorfinn. Hope I won't be an inconvenience."

"Your presence is never an intrusion or an inconvenience, I assure you."

A very awkward silence fell between them at his pronouncement. Neither of them could forget the last time they found themselves in a room alone together. Hermione felt her face heat up with the memories. Thorfinn couldn't look in her direction. Finally he cleared his throat.

"How did Alecto hurt you? Did she torture you? Cruciatus?"

"No, she snuck into the cottage disguised as Gregory Goyle. She hit me with some spell to the chest that threw me back into the fireplace. I hit my head rather hard and have been having trouble breathing ever since. Argos attacked before she could kill me."

"Why were you alone? I wasn't joking when I said I wouldn't let you out of my sight if you were my witch."

"Antonin is out of the country. Some mission for the Dark Lord."

Thorfinn traversed the length of the cottage to stand next to the bed again. He lifted up the covers on the edge.

"Budge over," he ordered. "I wasn't ready to get out of bed earlier when you all came calling. Didn't sleep well."

Hermione moved over to the other side of the bed up against the wall. The bed was smaller than she was used to, but still comfortable. Her eyes were heavy and she knew she wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer either. The wizard settled on the other side, inches away from her side. He turned on his side to look at his companion.

"You realize that this is the first time we've ever been in a bed together?" he asked, a hint of mockery in his tone. "Even after what we've…"

"Stop, Thorfinn. Please let's not mention that night."

"As you wish, though I think we'll have to discuss it sooner or later."

"Let's make it later."

She rolled over on her side to face the wall. Thorfinn briefly considered moving closer to the woman lying next to him, but was interrupted by the large dog jumping on the bed with them. Argos squeezed in between the wizard and witch. Hermione laughed. Thorfinn groaned and thought about throwing the damn dog out the front door.

"Cheeky little bugger. I wasn't going to harm your mistress."

Hermione continued to laugh at his indignation. Even he could see the humor in the situation and laughed too.

"Well, it looks like you and I have a proper chaperone, Princess."

"Looks like it."

"I'm sorry I can't offer you more luxurious accommodations."

"This is fine. _Really_. I'm just sorry that I'm taking up so much of your bed."

He laughed.

"You _never_ have to apologize for being in my bed. Now go to sleep. We're both tired."

They lay there silent with the already snoring dog between them.

"Thorfinn?"

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you're not dead."

"Thanks, Princess," he said, chuckling once more. "I'm glad you're not dead either."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty Four

Russia was steadily turning into the worst mission Antonin had ever been on. Nothing went smoothly. His numerous contacts in various parts of the massive country were unable to provide concrete facts that any of the so-called Umbridge Girls had ever been within their borders. Rumors were rampant of dozens of young Russians going off to fight a cause that wasn't theirs, but Antonin learned long ago that gossip was something of a national pastime. Blather and rumors were impossible to use for actual plans of action. The more he and his partners travelled, the more frustrated they all became.

They'd started out in Moscow. Antonin had many contacts in the capital city. Over the years he'd spent a great deal of time hiding there when he was on the run from the Ministry. There was a seedy underbelly to the Russian wizarding community that he'd fit right into. No one he spoke to had any reliable information for him to investigate. Saint Petersburg had been even worse.

In three weeks his group that started out as a group of ten slowly began to disband. Every few days one or two would be summoned back to Britain. After fifteen different cities in almost as many days, Antonin was alone with only one other. He was beginning to grow weary of his frustrating mission and missed Hermione dreadfully. What he wouldn't give to be at home wrapped around his witch in their decadently comfortable bed instead of sharing a cramped, rundown Muggle hotel room in freezing Tomsk with young Theodore Nott.

Nott had been chosen because of his passable Russian language skills. He wasn't fluent by any means, but summers spent with his late mother's Russian parents provided him with conversational skills. They were better than the fool Salazar Selwyn at any rate. Selwyn could hardly speak English and he'd spent most of his life in Hampshire. No, Theo was actually not a bad partner to have. He was more than willing to practice his language skills with Antonin, but preferred to remain quiet. Antonin always appreciated a man who didn't feel it necessary to fill every silence with inane chatter.

They were the last two left investigating the rumors of a rebel stronghold in Russia. Though they were both reluctant to come right out and admit it, they were both eager to go home. There were fewer and fewer leads as the trip wore on. Both fervently hoped that each morning when they woke they'd feel their left arm burning with the order to return.

"I don't know about yours, Nott, but I don't think this bed was actually designed for sleeping," Antonin called out in frustration after he'd tossed and turned for half an hour.

"Neither is this one," Theo replied with a laugh. "If I cut it open to find nothing but chicken bones instead of feathers, I wouldn't be surprised."

Both men chuckled and tried once more in vain to find a comfortable position in their respective beds. Antonin was fairly certain that the establishment specialized in rooms rented out by the hour. Comfort wasn't a high priority when their average client was hardly going to be in the room.

"I've got a bottle of Ogden's Finest in my bag," Theo announced.

Antonin's ears perked up.

"Might help us sleep," Theo suggested. "If we drink enough we won't care how bloody awful the beds are."

Only short minutes later both wizards were sitting on Antonin's bed with their backs against the headboard. They were two men who enjoyed silence so not a word was spoken until they'd both consumed more fire whiskey than required to simply make them sleepy.

"Think we will find anyone?" asked Theo.

Antonin was hesitant to answer the young man's question. As one of the senior Death Eaters, he had a certain reputation to uphold, a duty to portray a loyal follower to the younger generation. If Theo had been of his generation he would've felt more comfortable admitting what a waste of time their mission really was. They weren't going to find any of those poor girls and even if they did, Antonin didn't want to know where they were hiding. What good would he be doing to allow those women back to a country that would just lock them up again?

"I'm concerned that if we haven't found anyone yet that we may be unsuccessful in our mission," Antonin finally admitted.

"Did you ever go to the Umbridge Home?"

Antonin felt his entire body tense up at the seemingly harmless question. Most Death Eaters had been frequent visitors to the accursed place. He turned his head to stare at the pale visage of the young wizard greedily drinking more whiskey than he should. Somehow Antonin knew he could be honest with the boy.

"Absolutely not," he answered. "Deplorable place."

"Yes, it was."

Theo guzzled back more. Concerned that the thin man might poison himself with much more of the caustic liquid, Antonin snatched the bottle from his hands. He took his own swig but didn't relinquish control.

"My father made me go once," Theo said after several minutes of silence. "Said that he was tired of me shutting myself up in my room with books. 'It's time you became a man, son!' I didn't want to go. I knew most of those girls.

"My father said he had a surprise for me. Dragged me down the hallway and forced me to stop at Room Fifteen. I'll never forget that room. Burned into my memory. Father laughed and said he found the girl of my dreams.

"During the Christmas hols my fifth year, Father confronted me one night after a few too many glasses of wine. Wanted to know why I didn't have a girlfriend. Accused me of liking boys and threatened to kill me if he found out that was the truth. He actually used Legilimency on me to see if there was someone I cared about. He saw the girl and made me tell him her name. Then he clapped me on the back and told me he was glad I wasn't some fucking pillow biter."

Theo stopped for a moment to take a deep breath. Antonin wasn't sure why the boy was telling him this story, but he wasn't about to stop him. He looked like he needed an outlet.

"Father pushed open the door to Room Fifteen and sitting on the bed in tears was Ophelia Rushden. She was in Ravenclaw a year below me. Fairly certain I fell in love with her when she was Sorted my second year. She's beautiful. Dark brown hair and dark blue eyes that are almost black. Took me two years, _two_ fucking years to work up the courage to talk to her. She's not very funny, but she tries."

He paused to laugh. Antonin pretended he couldn't see the boy's tears running down his cheeks.

"She tells the _worst_ jokes, but she's adorable when she tries. We went to Hogsmeade together a few times. Some of the best days of my life. After Father was locked up in Azkaban after the Department of Mysteries, I stopped seeing her. Didn't want her to be tainted by the son of a Death Eater. Broke my heart.

"She was arrested because her father, her fucking father said something unflattering about the Minister and his coworker turned him in. Her parents were sent to Azkaban and she and her older sister were sent to the Umbridge Home. Guilt by association.

"Father pushed me in the room and told me to have fun. As much as I missed Felia, as much as I would've given anything just to see her again, that is _not_ how I wanted to see her."

Antonin felt sorry for the poor kid. He may not have always gotten along with his father, but he couldn't imagine him being so callous.

"I just stood there staring at her for the longest time. Didn't know what to say. I wanted to pull her into my arms, but it seemed wrong considering where we were. She tried to pretend like it was normal for us to be meeting there. _I_ was the one crying. She put everything in her life aside to comfort _me_. I wasn't worth it."

"She sounds like a remarkable girl."

Theo turned a bright, watery smile in his direction.

"Yes, she is. I never expected our first time together to be in a fucking prison, but for a few moments, a few blissful seconds, I forgot where we were. It was amazing until Father burst back in.

"He kicked me out and said he wanted to get to know my friend better. Had a lot to say about her when he came home that night. 'You've got excellent taste in witches, my boy. Your girl had the tightest cunt I've ever had. Fucking amazing! Can't wait to see her again'."

Antonin had never like Theodore Nott, Senior. Always thought he was a pompous, worthless bigot. To know that he actually derived pleasure from wounding his own son made his gut hurt. He knocked back a large mouthful of whiskey.

"Father made Ophelia his 'special girl'. He was the only one who was allowed to visit her after that. Of course he got tired of her right before the raid. Told me he decided to stop visiting her and I was welcome to go myself. You know what that meant, right?"

Antonin shook his head.

"That means that somewhere out there the woman of my dreams is pregnant with my little brother or sister."

Despite his earlier concerns that young Theo had had too much to drink, Antonin pushed the bottle back into his hands. If ever someone needed a drink, it was that kid after telling that horrible story.

"I shouldn't have told you that," Theo said, shaking his head and handing the bottle back. "Never could handle my liquor."

"You're young," Antonin replied. "You have plenty of time to learn how to drink."

Neither knew what to say for some time after Theo's heartbreaking tale. Antonin kept clenching and unclenching his fists to channel his rage. If he ever had a son, he would _never_ treat him so poorly.

"My father all but forced me into the service of the Dark Lord," Antonin admitted.

Theo's wide eyes turned his direction at the confession. Antonin wasn't sure what made him confess to the young man especially considering it was imperative that he do his part to instill and encourage absolute loyalty to the Dark Lord.

"He was one of his earliest supporters," he continued. "My mother always encouraged me to pick my own path, make my own choices, but when I was nineteen I finally succumbed to the pressure of my father. Sometimes I regret my decision."

Antonin wanted to rip his own tongue out of his head. Alcohol didn't usually loosen his lips that much. He couldn't understand why he was speaking so freely to the young man he was supposed to be teaching. Maybe he sensed a kindred spirit in the frightened wizard. Maybe he could see himself in the poor kid.

"I sometimes feel like I would rather be anywhere else," Theo admitted. "Always thought I'd like to travel and learn more about the ancient wizards in Egypt or maybe study magic with some of the tribes in Africa. Father wouldn't allow me. Told me I could follow in his footsteps and pledge my life to the Dark Lord or he could _Avada_ me and end my useless existence. Said acquiring a new heir wouldn't be hard."

Just when Antonin thought he couldn't hate Nott Senior any more…

"My father was a difficult man. Always expected perfection. If I didn't have top marks in school, I was nothing," replied Antonin.

"My greatest fear is one day looking in the mirror and seeing my father looking back at me."

Antonin had a similar fear. While he respected and admired his father, he was terrified to become just like him. As much as he knew Vadim Dolohov loved his wife and his son, he was not a good man.

"I remember your mother," Antonin announced, causing Theo to turn to face him so abruptly that he almost dropped the bottle. The older man took it from his hand to prevent any accidents. "I always like Lucya. She was sweet. Way too good for your father."

Theo snorted.

"She used to seek me out at parties or other gatherings. Think she missed speaking Russian. Always made me feel welcome. My mum was Muggleborn so I used to be looked down on. That's part of why I became so brutal. I'd rather be feared than dismissed. Your mother was warm and inviting. Never once made me feel like I was somehow less than anyone else. I was very sorry to hear about her death."

"Thank you," Theo muttered.

"We don't have to become our parents, Theo. We make our own choices, but even then it's important to remember that you're also half your mum and she was a kind, generous lady. You could just as easily end up like her."

Nott stopped to think about Antonin's words. It was a reminder that they both needed. Neither of them was condemned to turn out just like their fathers.

"What about you?" Theo asked. "Do you fear becoming like your father?"

"Not as much as I regret not making my own decisions when I was your age. I had a beautiful Ravenclaw too. Loved her and wanted to marry her, but my father arranged a marriage with one of Sal's aunts. By the time the engagement that I agreed to fell apart, Anna was already married. So I pledged my life to the Dark Lord and I still don't get to make my own decisions."

Apparently Theo wasn't the only one whose tongue was loosened by alcohol. He knew he shouldn't be so open with the junior Death Eater. It wasn't proper and it sounded like dissension in the ranks. No good could come of that. Both men sat quietly on the uncomfortable bed staring straight ahead. Finally Theo was the one to break the tension.

"Want to know my biggest regret?" He asked, but didn't wait for Antonin to answer. "My biggest regret was not asking Hermione Granger out when I had the chance."

Antonin's entire body stiffened at the wizard's comment. He whipped his head to the side to see Theo trying and failing to keep a straight face. Realizing he was simply having a go, Antonin snorted and relaxed his shoulders.

"You're definitely too late for that one, mate. She's mine and I don't intend on letting her go."

"She was my partner in Ancient Runes once. We never really interacted because of the whole Slytherin versus Gryffindor thing and all. I liked her. She has a brilliant mind, but she is entirely too bossy for my taste."

If there was someone who understood the truth of that statement, it was Antonin. He couldn't help but laugh. Yes, she was bossy. Sometimes infuriatingly so, but he didn't mind. He would gladly allow her to tell him what to do for the rest of his life. Of course, that didn't necessarily mean he'd listen.

"I think I could probably sleep on top of live chickens now if I had to," Theo said as he climbed off Antonin's bed.

* * *

Antonin and Theo were both woken up early the next morning by the burning of their left arms. Both men gladly ignored the awful hangovers from the night before to prepare for their return to Britain. Three weeks abroad and they had nothing to show for their efforts. While a small voice in the back of their minds worried about the welcome they could expect from their master when they were forced to report they had nothing, they were anxious to be home.

The journey of almost five thousand miles took many hours to complete. No one, not even the Dark Lord himself, could Apparate over that large a distance. Portkeys were out of the question because there were too many international governments and agencies that were able to monitor the journey. Too many potential questions. They were forced to Apparate multiple times to finally arrive outside the gates of Hogwarts. Both men were physically exhausted, their magical stores severely depleted.

The walk from the front gates to the Headmaster's office could be a bit daunting especially when they weren't aware of the reception they would find within. Students moved away from the men when they entered the Entrance Hall. They were used to the free reign of the Death Eaters within the castle, but none of them were foolish enough to get in their way. Painful curse and hexes often hit students who were unaware of their surroundings.

Neither of them said a word as they made the long journey to see their Lord. The gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the staircase had been charmed to recognize and open for those visitors with a Dark Mark instead of a password. Antonin took a series of deep breaths as the circular staircase ascended. No matter how many times he was summoned to meet the Dark Lord, he still felt fear. Only a fool wouldn't.

Walden Macnair pulled the door open before Antonin could even knock. The disgusting man spent a great deal of time at the castle. There were rumors that he went unicorn hunting in the Forbidden Forest to provide Horace Slughorn with enough blood to make a potion keeping their master alive. This was all spoken in whispers, of course. Any mention of the Dark Lord being mortal would result in a particularly painful death. Antonin assumed that Walden stayed to ogle all of the fresh, young girls in the school. All Death Eaters were forbidden from touching any of the students. The Dark Lord had taken an Unbreakable Vow with the former Deputy Headmistress that prevented any harm to the students. It sickened Antonin that a vow was required to keep grown men from molesting children.

"Welcome back, Antonin, Young Theodore," the Dark Lord greeted. His voice was no longer the booming, hypnotic tenor it once was. Every time Antonin saw him he seemed even closer to death. "You both have been on a long journey today."

Antonin and Theo crossed the expansive office to kneel down in front of the Dark Lord. When both brushed their lips against the hem of his robes, they stood. Theo was desperately trying to remain calm and keep his shuffling feet to himself. Antonin had many, many years of experience, but still was almost as nervous as the boy.

"I requested that you both return to provide an update on your mission. Were any of the rumors true?" the Dark Lord asked.

"We do not believe so, my Lord," answered Antonin. "We followed every lead and visited many different cities, but we were unable to find any evidence of rebels or any of the Umbridge girls."

"Pity."

The Dark Lord pulled his wand out of the pocket of his robes. Both men standing in front of him gulped at the fear that they were about to feel his wrath. He pointed his wand in their direction, but instead of a painful curse or a painless death, black smoke flew out of the end. It drifted out the open window and disappeared.

"I must admit that I did not believe we would be able to find anyone in Russia," he continued. "But I grew weary of hearing the requests from the Ministry."

Before he could continue with any further explanations or even provide the order to dismiss the new arrivals, the door to the office opened with a crash. All three of the Marked wizards turned their wands on the red-faced and furious Professor McGonagall.

"Minerva, an unexpected surprise," the Dark Lord almost purred.

"I have been trying to speak with you for over a week now," she announced, ignoring all protocol for addressing the Dark Lord. " _Professor_ Carrow has been missing from classes for over two weeks now. Should I be expecting a replacement for our mandatory Muggle Studies class or will she come bumbling in one day to resume her classes?"

Antonin could not have cared less where Alecto Carrow was. If he had his way, she'd been dead at the bottom of the ocean. She had wisely been avoiding him since the night of her brother's death, but somehow he knew it would only be a matter of time before she showed up again to make his life miserable.

"Antonin, I know that you have had some _problems_ with the Carrows in the past. Have you perchance seen or heard from Alecto recently?" the Dark Lord asked.

"No, my Lord. I have not seen her since a week or so before I left for Russia."

"Minerva, I will see to it that Alecto is located. Antonin, Young Theodore, you are dismissed."

Both men practically ran to the gates of the school grounds. Antonin was anxious to take Hermione into his arms and then take her later into their bed after a wastefully long, hot shower. Maybe he could even talk her into joining him. His thoughts on his witch, he nodded to Theo and Disapparated home.

The sun was just about to set when his feet touched down in his front garden. It surprised him to find that no lights were shining through the windows of the cottage. He also tried to ignore the disappointment he felt that Hermione wasn't waiting for him at the front door. Allowing himself a moment to sulk, he assumed that she was either at the market or down at the beach with her dog.

He pushed the door to the cottage open and almost vomited. The all-too-familiar stench of death permeated the entire living room. It was a scent he knew too well. Immediately he feared the worst.

"Hermione?! Hermione?!"

Antonin rushed into the cottage, the smell of decay growing stronger with each step. There was no answer. The setting sun created more shadows in the room than provided pockets of light. He waved his wand to light all of the sconces in the room, hoping that when his vision cleared he wouldn't see his greatest fear. More than once he had to swallow the rising bile that threatened to spew from his body. He couldn't be sure if it was the smell creating his nausea or the fear that he was smelling the ripened corpse of his love.

His feet found Alecto's body before his eyes. Bracing himself against the back of the sofa to prevent from falling on the decomposing body, Antonin sighed in temporary relief that he wasn't seeing Hermione. A thousand questions ran through his brain. Why was Alecto in his home? How did she get through his wards? What happened to her neck? Where was the damn dog? Where the fuck was Hermione? When he finally trusted his eyes were showing him Alecto, he began running through the small cottage frantically calling out Hermione's name.

It didn't take him long to come to the conclusion that Hermione and Argos were missing. He tried to cling to the tiny shred of hope that she would be found all right. A great deal had obviously taken place while he was freezing his bollocks off in Russia. Alecto had been dead for a long time if the smell were any indication. When the last square meter of his home had been checked for any sign of Hermione, he Disapparated from the location.

He ran full speed from the gates to the front door of Lestrange Manor. Considering he was no longer a house guest, propriety and good manners would force him to wait on the outside of the front door for an inhabitant to invite him in. Antonin was not in the mood for social graces. He pushed open the massive front door, stepped inside the grand entrance hall and began screaming Hermione's name.

"Antonin, what the fuck?" demanded Rabastan emerging from the dining room with his tart by his side.

"Is Hermione here?"

"No, of course not. She hasn't been back since your kitchen was finished," he answered. "What the devil is the matter?"

"I just got home from Russia," Antonin explained. "Hermione and the dog are missing and I've got a dead and decomposing Alecto Carrow in my living room."

Rabastan's eyes widened in shock. He placed a hand over his mouth to stifle his gasp. Antonin wasn't sure where to look for her next. He'd assumed that she would return to a familiar place if she were in trouble. She knew that Rabastan would provide assistance until he was able to return for her.

"I will ask around," Rabastan offered. "Isla dear, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to skip dinner this evening."

Antonin ignored the couple to rush back outside. Hermione could be anywhere. He ran back towards the gates, his breaths coming in ragged, shaky. Not once in his entire life had he ever felt so fucking helpless. Past the gates he Apparated back to his own cottage. He was going to need assistance.

Apparating with a smelly corpse was not an experience he ever wished to have again. Usually he would've disillusioned the body in an effort to not upset the impressionable students roaming around the castle and its grounds. At this moment, he didn't give a single fuck. Gasps and shrieks followed his every movement through the interior of the castle. Teachers and students alike leapt backwards out his way to avoid the malodourous Muggle Studies professor. His only satisfaction came from the disgusted expression on Macnair's face when he opened the door to the office to almost be hit in the face with the levitating corpse.

"Antonin, back so soon?" the Dark Lord asked, ignoring the corpse as if it were an every day occurrence.

"My Lord, I returned to my well-protected, Unplottable cottage to find Carrow's mangled, decomposing body," Antonin explained. "Granger is nowhere to be found."

"Oh, dear. No doubt you anticipated a much better homecoming."

Antonin released the levitating charm on Alecto to allow her corpse to crash down to the stone floor. A putrid puddle began to form underneath the rotting flesh. Macnair had to choke down his own vomit. Antonin had already emptied the contents of his stomach out in Rabastan's bushes. He stepped closer to his master when the wizard beckoned him forward with a crook of a bony finger. The Dark Lord pressed his wand into Antonin's Dark Mark. Immediately the searing pain of the summons exploded up through his arm. Macnair hissed at the pain and finally gave up the contents of his own stomach.

Because it was impossible to Apparate directly into the Headmaster's office due to the extensive wards of the castle, it was almost twenty minutes before the entire Inner Circle of Death Eaters assembled. Antonin caught Theo's worried eyes when he entered the room. Every single Death Eater stared at the corpse of one of their own with wide and sometimes frightened eyes. When the last finally arrived, the Dark Lord called for everyone's attention.

"Antonin returned home this evening to find our missing Alecto dead in his home," he announced. "There was obviously a struggle. Perhaps an animal of some sort bit the witch's neck. Did you not say that the girl had a dog, Antonin?"

"Yes, my Lord. Granger had a Saint Bernard. It is missing too."

"I have called you all here this evening because it is imperative that we not only find the missing girl, but that we learn just what happened to our comrade. I demand that anyone with any information step forward immediately."

No one moved forward. Antonin wasn't surprised. They were all a bunch of cowards when it came to potentially facing the wrath of their master. The Dark Lord requested any informants to come forward again and still no one moved.

"My Lord, I have extensive and powerful wards protecting my home," Antonin announced. "It is impossible to breach them. I asked Gregory Goyle to come to the cottage every day that I was gone to make certain that Granger wasn't able to escape. He was given a portkey specifically made by me to be allowed through the enchantments."

"Gary, are you aware of your son being involved in any way with Alecto?" the Dark Lord asked.

"My Lord, I do not know," answered a visibly shaken Gary. "He still lives at home and has not told me anything about Carrow. I was unaware that Antonin requested he visit the cottage to make certain the Mudblood was still there."

"Fetch your son at once, Gary. Do not make us wait long."

The time it took for Gary to rush home and bring a frightened Gregory into the Headmaster's Office seemed an eternity to Antonin when it couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes. Gary had a tight grasp of his son's upper arm. He pushed him through the circle of Death Eaters to the Headmaster's desk. Antonin could see Gregory try not to throw up when he caught sight of Alecto's corpse.

"Welcome back, Young Gregory," the Dark Lord greeted. "I have been hoping to see you make a more permanent addition to our little group."

"Yes, my Lord."

Gregory lowered his eyes and all but muttered the response. Antonin felt guilty dragging the poor kid into the serpent's den, but it was necessary. His Hermione was missing. Surely Gregory would understand the need.

"Antonin informed me that you were asked to check on the Granger girl every day that he was gone to Russia."

The young wizard's eyes widened in confusion and fear.

"Is this not true, Gregory?"

"No, my Lord. I never received a request from Mr. Dolohov. He has to give me a portkey to make it through his wards, but after I finished the renovation to his cottage, he never gave me another one."

"My Lord, the boy is lying!" Antonin hissed. _Why are you lying?!_ He wanted to wrap his hands around the boy's beefy neck and squeeze until all life left his body. "I owled him the moment I was ordered to go to Russia. He received instructions to stop by the cottage once a day and a portkey to allow him to do so."

"Now now, Antonin. There is no cause for such dramatics."

He struggled to calm his own emotions. It would do Hermione no good if he lost his composure in front of his master. She could be in trouble somewhere.

"Please step forward, Gregory," the Dark Lord ordered.

Antonin felt a stab of guilt at seeing the fear in the young wizard's eyes when he was forced to kneel in front of the Dark Lord and allow him to look into his mind. The Dark Lord placed his hands on either side of Gregory's head and stared into his terrified eyes. Several minutes later the Dark Lord released the young wizard. Gregory clutched his head and almost collapsed to the ground.

"I am afraid that young Gregory here was under the influence of a very powerful memory charm," he announced. "It appears that Gregory was at home when Alecto came to the door. She forced her way inside the home and placed Gregory under the Imperius Curse."

The stab of guilt grew stronger. Antonin felt terrible that he was willing to believe the worst in the young man he'd trusted enough to leave Hermione with. If he could trust Gregory enough alone with Hermione, he should never have suspected that he was involved in something terrible. Hadn't the boy made it obvious that he cherished Hermione as a newfound friend despite all of their years of differences in school?

"Alecto forced Gregory to explain how he was able to get to Antonin's cottage despite his enchantments. She then stole the portkey before Stunning him. And then it appears that our old friend Lucius was the one to Reenervate the boy. Gregory saw the girl with Lucius before he was _Obliviated_ by Lucius."

Antonin's stomach twisted further in knots at the announcement that Lucius was involved. He couldn't exactly admit that he wasn't surprised by the revelation. Lucius had been trying to get closer to Hermione since the very beginning. He still remembered walking up to Hermione in the corridor at Rabastan's when the blonde was harassing her. His hands had been all over Hermione. Every cell in his body vibrated with rage. When he found Lucius he was going to kill him. It was going to be slow and painful.

The Dark Lord demanded of his followers once more that anyone with any information about the whereabouts of Antonin's war prize should step forward immediately. It was surprising to imagine an incident in which Alecto was able to plan and execute a plan successfully on her own. When her brother was alive, the two bumbling idiots could usually work well enough together to cause mayhem. The anniversary party at Rabastan's manor was proof enough of that fact.

"Antonin, I told you months ago that I had special plans for Potter's Mudblood," the Dark Lord continued. "I am exceedingly disappointed that you were unable to keep her protected."

He writhed on the ground in sheer agony for what felt an eternity. The Dark Lord had never specifically announced his intentions for Hermione, but he did force Antonin to promise that he would keep her safe and protected at all costs. His failure could mean his life. He tried to focus on his next steps in finding his witch while his master kept him under the Cruciatus Curse. Of course it didn't take long for pain to be the only thought he was capable of.

"Walden?"

"Yes, my Lord?"

Antonin lay on the floor of the office trying to keep his eyes open when the Dark Lord lowered his wand. The agony combined with his body's exhaustion was almost enough to break him. He would be no good to Hermione if he couldn't remain conscious.

"You will aid Antonin in tracking down the Mudblood," the Dark Lord ordered. "Find her immediately."

"Yes, of course, my Lord," Walden replied with a bow.

"Antonin?"

He used every last ounce of strength remaining in his body to lift himself from the floor. The wizard bowed his head.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"If you and Walden are unable to find the Granger girl in short order, I will assign someone else who will."

The Dark Lord shot a stinging hex to Antonin's trembling body. He fell back to the ground with a groan.

"And if you are unable to find the Granger girl, I will place her in the protection of one of your brothers."

Antonin feared he would vomit over the frayed ends of the wizard's black robes.

"If Thorfinn were still alive, I would gladly hand her over to his capable hands. Everyone here knows of his desire for the girl." The Dark Lord laughed his cackling, maniacal laugh that made the hair stand up all over Antonin's body. He didn't care for where this was headed. "But sadly, Thorfinn is gone. I've been unable to sense him through his Mark since just after Azkaban. No doubt he crawled away from the battle and died of his wounds."

The Dark Lord pointed his wand at Antonin's prone body once more to pull him back to his feet. He was in a great deal of pain, but forced himself to remain standing with the illusion of strength.

"If you and Walden are unable to locate Miss Granger, I will be forced to place her in Theodore's protection."

Antonin's dark brown eyes met the smirking eyes of Nott Senior across the office. He wouldn't rest until he found Hermione. There was no way he was going to subject her to the depravity and anguish of being Nott's captive.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Thanks again for all of the awesome reviews! They mean a great deal to me. Also, thanks for all of the new Follows and Favorites. Welcome, New Readers!_


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

Hermione opened her eyes gradually to get herself acclimated to the dim light inside the cabin. She'd been asleep for a while. Every muscle in her body was tense from lying in the same position for too long. She couldn't be sure how long she had been out. _Fucking Alecto Carrow._

She carefully rolled herself over on her side to catch sight of a scene that made her giggle. Argos was still sleeping on the bed between her and Thorfinn. Her dog was facing her while being gently spooned from behind by the usually intimidating blonde wizard. Thorfinn had his arms around Argos and his cheek was nuzzling the top of the Saint Bernard's head. Hermione couldn't help herself from laughing even louder at the scene. Her mirth woke up both males in her bed. When Thorfinn realized he'd been snuggling with the animal, he kicked Argos out of bed. Hermione found his disgusted expression hilarious.

"Think that's funny?" he asked. "All that fluffy hair in my nose made me think he was you."

His indignant facial expression only made her laugh more. He watched her with a tilt of his head and a single raised eyebrow as she continued to laugh even harder. When she looked over at the floor to see her dog giving her an almost identical look, another round of giggles burst out of her mouth. It felt good to laugh after all the hell she'd been put through since the morning of Alecto's unexpected and unwelcome visit. Only the harsh reminder of her weakened lungs made her rethink her fit of laughter.

As she struggled to catch her breath, Thorfinn was sitting up in a second. He pulled her small body into his chest. With her back pressed up against his broad chest, Thorfinn encouraged her to take deep, slow breaths. Several minutes passed before she relaxed enough to breathe deeply. She hoped the side effects from Alecto's curse wouldn't last much longer.

"Are you all right?" Thorfinn asked, his arms still wrapped around her torso.

"I think so," she replied.

"Need anything, Princess? Food? Water? Sponge bath?"

Hermione snorted but stopped herself before she started laughing again. She elbowed the wizard, eliciting a soft chuckle from the man.

"No, thanks, but a shower does sound marvelous."

"I hit you with a few cleansing spells while you were out," he announced. "I don't allow smelly witches in my bed."

Hermione rolled her eyes and snorted once more.

"Where's the shower?" she asked.

Thorfinn pointed to a plain door next to the fireplace.

"I think you should take a bath instead," Thorfinn said. "You're too weak to stand alone in the shower unless you'd like me to shower with you. Personally, I don't mind assisting you in the shower if that's what you need."

Hermione rolled her eyes again and carefully climbed out of bed. She crossed the main room of the cabin towards the small bathroom. It became clear to her just then how much she must have annoyed Antonin when he was recovering from his injuries after the battle at Azkaban. She'd always known she had a tendency to be too bossy at times. Now she understood how obnoxious it could be.

She opened the door to the tiny bathroom. All it contained was a small shower that wouldn't have been large enough for two if she'd lost temporary hold of her sanity and took Thorfinn up on his offer to shower together. She turned around to ask him about the bathtub he'd insisted she use. Before the question of its whereabouts came out of her mouth, she witnessed her host transfigure the small dining table into a deep, copper tub with a flick of his wand. Thorfinn moved it closer to the roaring fire before filling it up with steaming water.

"It's ready now. Go ahead and get in," Thorfinn ordered, gesturing towards the tub.

Hermione laughed but didn't move any closer.

"No, you can step outside and stay out there until I finish," she retorted.

An impish smirk crossed Thorfinn's features. He stepped closer to her, effectively blocking any means for her escape.

"It's not like I haven't seen every square inch of your gorgeous body before, Princess. Actually, I'm fairly sure I've _licked_ every square inch."

Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. Thoughts of their night together in the library flashed through her mind only serving to make the awkward moment even more awkward. More than once she opened her mouth to say something in response, but was never able to accomplish more than just an indignant sputter. Thorfinn laughed at her attempts. He conjured a large privacy screen around the bathtub before disappearing around the other side.

She wasted no time in pulling off her purple pajamas and sinking into the tub. The water felt amazing on her achy, tired body. She didn't even try to suppress the sounds of the contented moan that slipped out between her teeth. A quiet chuckle from somewhere near the bed confirmed her suspicions that Thorfinn was still paying attention to her. She looked down at the floor in time to see her dirty clothes disappear. Just as she was about to protest, a new set of clothing that was sure to swallow her whole appeared in their place.

Despite not wanting to agree that Thorfinn was correct about anything, Hermione had to admit that the bath was a good call. In only a brief few minutes she could feel her tension melt away. Just as she was growing more relaxed, Thorfinn's words about _licking_ her body resounded within her brain. She opened her eyes and shifted so quickly within the tub that she sloshed water over the side.

"I thought we weren't going to talk about that night," she blurted out before she could stop herself.

"No, I never agreed to that," Thorfinn called out from the bed. "I said that we were going to need to discuss that night sooner or later. You said 'later'. It's later."

She lathered up with the soap he left by the side of the tub as a means to distract herself for a few minutes longer. He didn't seem in any rush to force her to talk. Hermione took her time in cleansing her body as the tension in the cabin seemed to grow in exponential leaps.

"Maybe I think it's better if we both forget that night ever happened," she finally said to break the awkward stillness.

"Nope, sorry, Princess. Not going to happen. That night has been forever burned in my memory. Yours too if I'm not mistaken. I can't imagine that either one of us will ever be able to forget."

He had a point. Damn it all, he had a point. She'd spent more time dwelling on her recollections of that evening than she cared to admit to over the past five months. Usually she would be suddenly struck by a heated moment, a hissed word, or an adoring touch when she least expected it. She was sure that it was due to the mass amounts of potions that were forced down their throats by Amycus Carrow that seemed to heighten the experience. Potions or not, it was the singular most passionate night of her entire life. How many times did snippets of her time with Thorfinn pop into her head when she was in the middle of being intimate with Antonin? Her cheeks burned with humiliation and just a tad of shame.

"We may not be able to forget that night," she continued. "But we don't have to talk about it. We both know that that never would've happened if we hadn't been drugged."

"' _Never'_? I disagree with you there, Princess. I think it was only a matter of time before we gave into our instincts and shagged the stuffing out of each other."

Hermione sputtered in an attempt to respond, but couldn't think of the right words. Or really _any_ words to respond to his ridiculous notion that they were simply biding their time before the opportunity presented itself for them to lose control with each other. She seriously believed he'd taken one too many _crucios_ in the service of his Dark Lord.

"You've got to admit that we've got chemistry, Princess. That has to be the hottest night of my life. I like to think about it when I'm all alone and need some tension _release._ "

The sound of his laughter passed through the privacy screen and made Hermione roll her eyes yet again. She wanted to argue with him. Wanted to tell him that he was crazy and wouldn't know chemistry if it smacked him in the face. Unfortunately, she understood all too well what he was saying. There _had_ been something there between the two of them. She would simply be lying to herself if she claimed that she didn't think he was attractive. She wondered if they would've felt the same way if there had never been a war, he'd run into her in Diagon Alley and remembered her as the girl who always seemed to walk in on him in compromising positions at Hogwarts. Would they have used their mutual past to parley that into a drink? Or several? Would they have gone on to dinner to share mildly amusing anecdotes of their lives in the years since she'd last walked in on him in a broom cupboard? Maybe ended up at his place or hers for an evening of welcome debauchery with no strings attached? Or would it have turned into something more?

Hermione shook her head in an effort to banish all of the thoughts that were suddenly plaguing her exhausted mind. There wasn't any point in wondering what might've happened between them if there had never been a war. There _had_ been a war. To some, including Hermione herself, they were still living in the midst of one. Imagining what could have been was just a waste of time.

"Does it not bother you that that evening came about as a result of us being drugged?" she asked.

"Of course that bothers me!" His reply was vehement and she wondered briefly if he was struggling with the urge to rush to her side. "That is certainly not how I imagined our first time together."

Her curiosity piqued, Hermione couldn't help but ask the question.

"You were imagining us together before the night of Rabastan's party?"

"Fuck yes, I was! I think I've been imagining being with you ever since the night you and your little mates attacked Dolohov and me and you wiped my memories."

"You attacked us first!"

Thorfinn chuckled his deep chortle that made Hermione's cheeks grow even warmer.

"At first I think I just wanted to make you pay for the humiliation and the pain I experienced that night," he continued. "I won't lie to you, Princess. I pretty much thrived on hating you for a long time. I wanted to find you and make you pay in a series of uncomfortable and painful ways."

She didn't know how to respond to his confession. Somehow she didn't think any response was expected, so she just remained silent. She took her time washing the lather off of her heated skin in an effort to give the man the opportunity to finish his story with the benefit of the privacy screen between them.

"I'm glad now that I never caught you during the war. It would've been bad. When Antonin claimed you for his after the final battle, I was furious. It might surprise you to know that there is a code of honor amongst the Death Eaters. Once you were placed under his protection, all thoughts of me being able to find you and make you pay had to be put aside.

"Seeing you in the Wizengamot reminded me of my previous lust for revenge. You looked so broken and terrified that day. I won't lie, it plucked at my heart strings just a little. After I mocked Antonin a few times, I lost interest in your trial. I didn't want to see you looking so defeated any longer. That wasn't how I always remembered you.

"A lot happened between your trial and the night I saw you again at Rabastan's that first night. A lot of really awful shit that I'd rather not dwell on. When I saw you walk into Rabastan's dining room the night of the dinner party, I couldn't keep my eyes off of you. It seemed like you were back to normal. And then when we were alone in the library I still couldn't believe you were still in there. I thought you'd run away the second you realized I was in there."

"I almost did," she admitted. "But I decided it was _my_ library and you weren't going to kick me out."

Thorfinn laughed and stopped talking for a few minutes. Hermione carefully rose from the tub to dry off with the fluffy towel he'd set next to the fireplace to warm. It felt decadent against her flushed skin. She took her time toweling off before slipping the much-too-large pajama pants and undershirt on. Thankfully the pants had a drawstring to prevent them from falling off at an inopportune time.

"You weren't intimidated by me that night. I liked it. Most women are," Thorfinn continued. "When our fingers brushed when I handed you the glass of fire whiskey, I felt a jolt in my gut. I wanted to kiss you so badly."

Hermione walked around the privacy screen, drying her hair off as she walked towards the bed. He was seated with his back against the headboard absentmindedly scratching Argos' head. Their disagreement earlier in the morning had been forgotten and Argos had been allowed back on the bed. She climbed up on the bed from the end, but didn't move up much further. At his confession of wanting to kiss her, she couldn't help but laugh. That had certainly not been the impression he'd given her that night.

"I thought you were disgusted that my Mudblood skin dared to brush against your pureblood skin," she admitted.

He laughed again.

"Princess, any time your Mudblood skin wants to brush against my pureblood skin, I promise I won't mind."

His wink set her laughing again. How he could be so perverse one second and make her laugh the next was something she had yet to figure out. Thorfinn Rowle was a riddle. If anyone else ever dared to speak to her the way he usually did, she would've hexed them or done something even nastier. Somehow he made his perversity almost seem charming. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't remain annoyed with him for very long.

"So yeah, I'll admit it. I've been having inappropriate thoughts about you for a long time," he admitted. "Saw you once in Hogsmeade the year Snape killed Dumbledore. I remember thinking that you'd grown up nicely."

"Thank you. I think that is least debauched compliment you've ever given me," she said with a snort. "I'm surprised you remembered me."

"The bossy little first year that had a knack for showing up right in the middle of my amorous affairs? Yeah, there's no way I could ever forget you."

"You were pretty unforgettable yourself."

His eyebrow raised and the impish smirk from earlier reappeared.

"Is that so? What do you remember most?"

"Don't get too excited," she admonished him. "Mostly I just remember walking up on you in the library."

"What sticks out in your mind about that?"

She could feel her cheeks begin to burn again. What was this man's special power that kept her continuously blushing?

"Well, if you must know, yours was the first I'd ever seen."

He stared at her strangely for a moment before the impact of her words made their mark. The moment he understood he started laughing until tears were pouring out of his eyes. Hermione felt a tiny bit indignant at his response in the beginning, but it didn't take her long before she was laughing right along with him.

"I'm so sorry, Princess," he said between bursts of laughter. "I ruined you from an early age. You must have gone through your life with an unrealistic expectation of what men carry in their trousers. Sadly, not every poor bloke has been gifted like I have."

Hermione crawled up to the top of the bed while he continued to laugh at her expense. She grabbed the pillow she'd been using for the length of her stay and with her still-limited strength, hit him in the face. Temporarily stunned by the pillow making its mark, Thorfinn stopped laughing. His cessation only lasted a few seconds. He deftly ripped the pillow out of her hands and sent it flying across the length of the small cabin. His resumed laughter was still ringing in her ears as she unsuccessfully tried to crawl over his legs to retrieve the pillow. She felt his large hands grasped her hips. In one swift motion she found herself straddling his lap and her face only inches from his. His deep blue eyes darkened. Before she could even imagine protesting, she felt his lips press against hers.

She would've liked to admit that she pushed him away the moment he kissed her, that she didn't allow him the liberty. Unfortunately, she couldn't admit to something that wasn't the truth. The moment his lips met hers she all but melted into the embrace. It felt familiar and even a bit comforting. They kissed as if they had been kissing for years instead of one debauched evening drugged up on illegal potions. She returned his fervent, experienced kisses until she couldn't breathe. Whether it was Alecto's curse that left her breathless or the practiced way his lips and tongue worked in tandem, she couldn't be sure. She finally had to push herself away to catch her breath.

"If you'd let me, Princess, I'd make sure you were always safe."

Hermione closed her eyes at his confession. She tried to will away the tears she could feel forming. His equally breathless and desperate admission left her more confused than she'd felt in a very long time. When she opened her eyes it was to meet his pleading, blue ones.

"Antonin is my protector."

The harsh, bitter laughter that choked out of his strangled throat was as different from the hearty, joyful laughter from earlier as Albus Dumbledore was from Tom Riddle. She didn't like this side of Thorfinn in the slightest.

"How many times has your _Antonin_ almost gotten you killed, Hermione? Or better yet, how many times has he almost allowed you to be raped? You aren't stuck in this cabin with me because you wanted to go deer hunting or maybe spend a few days fishing. You were almost killed by that psychotic bitch because she itched for a shag from the wizard. He left you alone. If you were mine to protect, I would _never_ leave you alone and defenseless and I'd curse anyone who dared to look at you strangely."

She wanted him to stop. She didn't need to hear his declarations or promises to keep her protected. As welcome as they might have once been, Hermione couldn't help but think that no matter what he said, he would never convince her to take his words to heart. She would never take him up on his offer to become his witch and live under his protection. It didn't matter that she often fantasized about that night even when she didn't wish to or that he had proven once again that his kisses were intoxicating. She would never be with Thorfinn Rowle for the simple reason that he was not the wizard she wanted. All thoughts of other men, wizards and Muggles alike, were pushed out of her head the night she made love with Antonin on the floor above Umbridge's restrained form.

"I do care about you, Thorfinn, but…"

"But you fancy yourself in love with Dolohov."

The words were flung in her face with abject bitterness and pain. Thorfinn pushed her gently off of his lap to enable himself to stand up. Apparently being in bed with the woman rejecting him was just a bit too much for the man to handle. Hermione couldn't blame him.

"Antonin is a bad man, Hermione," he announced. "He is dangerous and cold and he is damaged from all of the years he spent locked up in Azkaban. You can't hope to have any kind of normal life with him."

"I know he has a past."

"No, Princess, not _past_. This is his present and his future. He tries to hide his darkness from you. How can that be true and real love?"

"You're dark too! How many innocent people have _you_ killed, Thorfinn?"

"My fair share. I'm dark, Princess. I may not always be this dark, but I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm willing to kill or be killed for what I believe in."

Hermione snorted in derision at his last comment.

"Oh, yeah? Pureblood supremacy?"

Thorfinn laughed and again, it was nothing like the warm laughter from earlier when Hermione struck him in the face with a pillow. This was angry laughter.

"Foolish cause of my misspent youth," he retorted. "Now I only care about one thing. Keeping the ones I love safe and I've done a terrible job so far."

He turned his back to Hermione, but was close enough that she could reach over to grasp his hand. Forgetting the ire that was still coursing through her, she tried to give him what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

"Reina is safe now," she reminded him.

Thorfinn turned back around and dropped her hand. He took one long look at her eyes before snorting.

"Yeah, no thanks to me. Even now she's being protected by my future brother-in-law while I hide like a coward in the woods. I'm sure that's the reason my sister brought you here. At least I can do my part to keep the only other person I love in this fucked up world protected."

Hermione was certain she misunderstood him. He couldn't possibly have just admitted to loving her, could he? As she replayed his words over in her mind repeatedly, she found that she couldn't ignore the truth. Somehow Thorfinn was convinced that he was in love with her. She would've laughed out loud if she didn't think the whole affair too bizarre and just a bit sad.

"You don't love me, Thorfinn," she said quietly.

"The hell I don't!"

His blue eyes danced with a fury that she'd rarely seen before. It was an expression that she knew would make his enemies staring down the wrong end of his wand nervous and fear for their lives. She knew his violent streak. Knew what he was capable of. Knew what he had done in the past. Sometimes it was hard to remember that the violent wizard who'd killed on the orders of Lord Voldemort was the same man that could make her laugh until she cried with a debauched and inappropriate one liner.

"You hardly know me!" she responded. "You're just in love with the _idea_ of me. Obviously you want someone who challenges you and isn't afraid of you."

"Yes, just like you."

"No, no, you don't love me, Thorfinn. I think you're confused."

He resumed his pacing of the small cabin. It was obvious that he was gathering his thoughts, so Hermione thought it best that she wait to speak until he spoke next. While she waited, she witnessed him banish the privacy screen, _evanesco_ her dirty bath water and transfigure the tub back into the dining table. Several long minutes passed before he returned to the side of the cabin where she was still sitting on his side of the bed.

"With all due respect, Hermione," he finally said. "I think you are the one who is confused about your feelings and who you love."

She didn't care for his implication that the feelings she had for Antonin were somehow not genuine. How could they not be? Not once in her admittedly short life had she ever felt the same intensity with anyone else that she felt with Antonin. All the man had to do was glance in her direction and she couldn't breathe. She'd been working hard to keep Antonin off of her mind the past several days because she was afraid that she would quickly lose her composure. Already she missed him dreadfully and would've rushed back to their cottage, dead, decomposing body and all, if it meant she could see him. She'd tried not to dwell on the fact that he would be coming home from a dangerous mission expecting her to be waiting at the front door only to walk in and find a dead Alecto Carrow in his place. What would he do?

"All right, Thorfinn. I will listen to you. State your case. Why do you believe that I cannot possibly be in love with Antonin?"

"You're a victim in all of this," he explained. "From the very beginning you were at his mercy. He asked for you from the Dark Lord because he said he had plans for you. When he finally caught you and was able to take you out of Azkaban, it's natural that you would develop some kinds of feelings for him. That doesn't make them genuine."

"So you think I'm some kind of victim of what… Stockholm Syndrome?"

"Is that the thing where they fall in love with their captors?"

She nodded.

"Then yes, that's exactly it. You're a victim of that. He took you in out of the cold and like a lost and scared puppy, you clung to the abusive master because it was better than being locked up in prison or at the mercy of someone like Walden Macnair."

"So you think I've got no more sense than a beaten puppy?"

"No! That's not what I'm saying."

He ran his hands through his hair, frustrated that he wasn't able to get his point across. Hermione got the feeling that this wasn't the first time he'd imagined having this very conversation with her. No doubt when he practiced it earlier he made a more persuasive case.

"Dolohov has manipulated you. Made you believe that the scraps he throws your way is all that you deserve."

"You don't know everything about my relationship with Antonin."

"No, I'm sure I don't, but let me ask you something. How many times _after_ he's professed to care about you has he frightened you? Made you afraid to be in your own home?"

She didn't have to answer the question out loud. He could tell by the expression in her worried eyes all he needed to know. There had been several incidents that she'd been afraid of Antonin. Several nights she'd woken up from terrible nightmares with him playing the starring role only to face the startling realization that the monster from her dreams was the man comforting her. She would never forget the night he came into the library covered in blood. Or forget the fury in his eyes when he cut down Amycus Carrow. Part of her believed that he would've killed Thorfinn and likely her too if Reina hadn't been so quick with the shield charm.

"You're not in love with him. How can you love someone that disappears at night only to come home reeking of the blood he'd shed? How can you be in love with someone who terrifies you?"

She couldn't meet his eyes. These were questions she'd asked herself already a hundred times. She didn't need another voice parroting them back to her to give her another perspective. She loved Antonin. At some point in their crazy, messed up relationship she'd fallen for the taciturn wizard. Part of her resented Thorfinn for daring to call her feelings into question.

"Sometimes you terrify me too, Thorfinn."

It was spoken in a whisper, but she didn't need to raise her voice to get her point across. Thorfinn stormed out the door of the cabin. The door slammed shut loud enough to make Argos jump and whine. Hermione lay back down in the bed and sobbed into Thorfinn's pillow.

He didn't return to the cabin for several hours. Hermione woke up from yet another nap when the door opened. Thorfinn came walking in silently with a couple of market bags in his arms. Their eyes met across the cabin, but neither had anything to say to the other. Hermione simply rolled over back to her side of the bed and tried to sleep some more. She was grateful for the potions that he forced down her throat without a word. At least then she didn't have to pretend to be asleep to ignore the uncomfortable silence permeating the entire building.

Some time in the middle of the night she woke back up when her potions wore off. The lamps were all out and the fire was burning low in the grate. Argos was asleep in front of the fireplace. She carefully rolled over to see Thorfinn wide awake lying next to her. His eyes were open and his right arm was thrown above his head. It was obvious that he'd been lost in his own thoughts.

"Thorfinn?"

Snapping him out of his thoughts, Thorfinn turned to his side to face the woman who'd obviously hurt him badly only hours before.

"Can I tell you something?"

He supported his head using his left hand to see her better.

"Of course," he answered.

"In my fifth year I created a cursed parchment for Dumbledore's Army. Anyone who signed it and then told about our group would be cursed. One of the girls told Umbridge and the word 'Sneak' was written across her face in giant pimples that she couldn't get rid of. Without the counter curse, she'll be stuck with them for ten years."

He stared at her strangely as if he weren't quite sure how to respond. Before he could think of any inanity to fill the silence, she started again.

"And in my fourth year I found out that Rita Skeeter was an unregistered Animagus. She had been writing nasty stories all year about Harry and about me. When I realized she was a beetle, I trapped her in a jar of unbreakable glass. I kept her in that jar for a few months and only released her after she promised not to write another story about Harry for a year or I'd report her to the Ministry."

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked softly. "As amusing as these stories are, I don't understand."

"Want to know why Dolores Umbridge hates me so much? Why I was willing to crouch behind a bush at Rabastan's party to avoid her?"

He nodded his head. It was barely noticeable in the dimness, but she understood.

"In my fifth year she caught Harry breaking into her office to use the Floo. Several of us in the DA were trying to be lookouts in case she showed up, but we were caught by her fucking Inquisitorial Squad. When she had us in her office, I had to tell a lie as to why Harry was using the Floo. He was trying to contact his godfather Sirius Black and he was still wanted by the Ministry. I lied and told her that we were trying to contact Dumbledore to tell him that the weapon he made us build was ready in the Forbidden Forest.

"She forced Harry and me to go to the Forest at wandpoint. The centaurs were restless and angry with the humans. We'd already been warned once before when we went out into the forest with Hagrid. The centaur herd showed up and after she made some really insulting remarks and tried to use magic on them, Umbridge was dragged off into the forest. I knew, I _knew_ what centaurs were capable of, what they did to captured human women even before I made her come with us. I knew they wouldn't hurt Harry and me because we were young, but I knew that if they caught her, they'd drag her away to rape her. It didn't stop me from forcing her to come."

Hermione didn't realize she was crying until Thorfinn reached over with his right hand to brush her tears away. She closed her eyes at the gentle contact. When the tears were wiped off, he moved his hand to her shoulder to lightly run his fingers up and down her upper arm.

"If I tell you something else, do you promise not to repeat it?" she asked.

"Who am I going to tell? Argie?" he teased with a smirk.

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"I helped kill Umbridge."

Thorfinn exhaled enough to make a light whistling sound with his breath. Whatever he was expecting her to say, that certainly wasn't it. She was a woman of many surprises.

"She _Crucio_ 'd me in the Ministry holding cell," she explained. "Made Antonin furious when I told him later. She threatened to kill me the night of the Umbridge Home raid. Antonin kidnapped her and took her to our cottage. We took turns torturing her. Or really, I guess he just slapped her a few times. I was the one who _crucio_ 'd her and carved words into her entire body with a single spell. Antonin was simply the one who finished her off when I couldn't."

His hand moved back to her face to brush away the renewed tears.

"Why are you telling me all of this, Princess?" he asked again.

"Once when I was seven a girl at school made fun of me for being weird. I set her hair on fire. No one knew how I did it and they couldn't prove I'd done anything, so I didn't get in trouble. But she and I both knew that it was something I did."

Hermione rolled over to face the wall and turn her back to the wizard. His hand dropped off of her shoulder at the movement.

"You and Antonin aren't the only ones that have darkness inside of them."

* * *

It took almost a solid week before Hermione felt more like herself. At the very least she no longer got winded just by laughing at something terribly perverse that Thorfinn said. Neither of them spoke about the conversations they had the day she woke up. Hermione thought it was silly that they were actively trying to ignore what passed between them. She knew it would only be a matter of time before they had another big blow up. They were two passionate people stuck in a cramped location.

"I want to meet with the Resistance," she announced over breakfast.

Thorfinn dropped his fork. The glare he shot in her direction told her without words how he felt about her idea.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"I've decided that I can't stay hidden in this cabin forever," she said. "I should be doing _something_."

"You don't want to run off and join the Resistance, Princess. I assure you. They probably wouldn't want you anyway."

She knew that he wasn't trying to hurt her feelings, but his words still stung. That was exactly the fear she'd been trying to ignore ever since she heard the rumors that Calliope told Reina.

"Why wouldn't they want me?" she asked, trying to hide the petulance that was seeping into her tone.

"You've been tainted," he responded with no preamble.

"Tainted?"

"You've spent the past eight months living with known Death Eaters. I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, but many of your uptight, do-good Gryffindors are probably not going to trust you."

Hermione didn't want to hear anymore. She knew he wasn't wrong. Pushing her plate across the table, she stood from the table. Thorfinn watched her actions, but didn't move to stop her until she laced up the boots Reina had brought a few days earlier with some other clothing that actually fit her frame better than Thorfinn's pajamas. She picked up her wand, whistled to Argos and stepped outside.

She made it about ten feet past the enchantments surrounding the cabin before Thorfinn was outside. Ignoring his protests to return, she raised her wand to cast her patronus. She paused for a few moments trying to decide the best person to contact. Finally, she decided to send a message on to the eldest of the Weasleys with a request to meet.

"I still think you are setting yourself up to get hurt," Thorfinn said.

Only a few minutes passed before the quiet of the forest was interrupted by a silvery stampeding bull. The large animal ran straight towards Hermione. If she hadn't understood the properties of the patronus charm, she might have been frightened by the glint in the bull's eye. When it stopped just inches in front of her, she was relieved to hear Bill's voice.

" _Hermione, meet me at Tower Bridge in London in fifteen minutes."_

She couldn't stop the tears that rolled out of her eyes as the patronus dissipated into thin air. He actually wanted to see her! And he didn't make her wait for hours to respond. Argos pawed at her leg, reminding her that he was still there. Hermione cast the lightening charm on the dog and gleefully picked him up. Following the canine saving her life she wasn't planning on going anywhere without him.

"You shouldn't go alone," said Thorfinn, annoyance dripping from his words.

"I won't be alone. I have Argos," she replied.

"You won't know how to get back here. I'm coming with you."

He grasped her arm and Apparated them to the south side of the bridge. Hermione was angry at first that he'd taken the liberty to Side-Along her without her permission, but the excitement in only being minutes away from seeing a beloved member of the Weasley family made her forgive him far easier than she ordinarily would have.

It was a good thing that they were surrounded by Muggles because the sudden arrival of Bill Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt could've meant Thorfinn's death otherwise. Both men had their wands out and pointed in his direction as subtly as possible.

"What is _he_ doing here, Hermione?" Bill demanded, nervously looking around them to make certain no Muggles could see his outstretched wand.

"That's, of course, assuming she even _is_ Hermione," Kingsley replied, his tone cold and distant. Nothing like the warm, honeyed tones she was used to hearing in Grimmauld Place.

"Of course it's me, Kingsley!" she protested. "Ask me anything."

"Who did we disguise Harry Potter as at my wedding?" Bill asked.

"Barny Weasley," she answered without a second thought. "One of the twins I think stole some hair from a Muggle in the village and he drank Polyjuice potion to pretend to be one of your cousins. Your uncle even tried to take him home when he got too drunk and thought he was his son."

Bill's shoulders sagged just a little with the answer. He lowered his wand long enough to pull the young woman into a hug. She clung to the man as some kind of connection to her past that no longer felt as if it were a part of her life. When they broke apart she saw Kingsley still pointing his wand at Thorfinn. The Death Eater had his empty hands out, proving to be at least temporarily unarmed.

"I'm going to ask you again, Hermione," Bill began. "Why are you with Rowle?"

"I got into a little bit of trouble and Thorfinn has been taking care of me. He's in hiding too."

Kingsley actually snorted at her explanation. It was obvious that the former auror didn't believe a word she just said.

"This smells like a set up," he whispered to Bill though not quietly enough for the other two to not hear. "He cannot be trusted. He's Marked. You Know Who can track him through his arm."

Thorfinn pulled the sleeve of his left arm up to his elbow. His Dark Mark glowed light blue. Hermione realized for the first time that the entire week she'd been staying with him, she'd never seen his left arm uncovered.

"It's a stasis charm," he explained. "Lucius and my sister figured out a way to charm it so I can no longer feel any summons and so the Dark Lord cannot find me through the Mark."

Argos pushed through the little group to sniff Thorfinn's arm. His appearance seemed to surprise the two Resistance leaders but neither said anything. They didn't seem ready to trust the glowing charm.

"If it would keep Hermione safe, I'd cut my arm off," Thorfinn said, the sincerity in his tone evident to Hermione at least.

Kingsley turned away from Thorfinn to stare at Hermione. She noticed the changes that had taken place in her former comrade's appearance. The loss of the war had not been kind to him. His clothes hung off of his formerly muscular frame. Deep bags under his eyes spoke of a man who didn't get enough sleep.

"Why did you request a meeting?" he demanded.

"I want to help," she answered simply.

Bill and Kingsley stepped aside for a few minutes to speak in hushed tones. Hermione shifted from foot to foot in anticipation of what they would finally say when they returned. Minutes felt like hours. When they returned, she practically jumped on them to learn their decision.

"Kingsley and I are going to meet with some of the other leaders," Bill explained. "We will be in touch."

Both men walked away moments later disappearing in a crowd of Muggles.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty Six

The tired muscles in his back twitched and spasms of agonizing pain shot through Antonin's entire body. His cheek was rested on the cold stone floor of the Headmaster's office. He knew he needed to stand up. His brain was shouting at him to stand up, but his body, his battered, old body was not cooperating. The Dark Lord had already dismissed him. He had to stand.

He had been under the false assumption that his master was just going to allow him to waltz right back out the door to his office after he gave him the dire warning that Theodore Nott would be Hermione's 'protector' if she wasn't found immediately. After he'd bowed to his master and turned towards the door to exit to begin the search, he was struck in the back by another powerful burst of the Cruciatus Curse. It was the Dark Lord's specialty to lure his followers into a false sense of security before he made them wish for death. The second round of the damned torture curse lasted at least five times as long as the first. He could feel his body begin to give out under the strain of the pain. His mind, his most prized possession, was rapidly stretching past its endurance.

His innate instinct for survival was the only reason why he was able to finally stand. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he was able to summon up enough strength with thoughts of Hermione to pull himself off of the floor. Past experience taught him the hard way that to linger too long in the presence of the Dark Lord after a punishment was to invite him to heap even more on top. Antonin peeled himself from the floor, sent another respectful bow into his Lord's direction and ran like hell out of there.

Walden was waiting for him at the base of the circular staircase. The older wizard was annoyed at having had to wait for so long for the other. Antonin rolled his eyes when he saw the expression plastered across the wrinkled, grizzled countenance of the former executioner. Neither said a word to each other for a large portion of their walk down to the ground floor of the castle. Antonin was using every last ounce of strength he had to just stay upright. Sheer determination was all that was keeping him moving forward.

"I'll help you find the Mudblood for a price," Walden announced somewhere near the Entrance Hall.

Antonin stopped walking to stare at the man. They had both just received a direct order from their master. It didn't matter what Walden wanted, he was _ordered_ to help Antonin find the witch. His dark brown eyes narrowed in his direction. Macnair stopped moving to return the glare.

"How about you let me have an evening alone with her?" the elder man suggested with a disgusting leer.

Antonin took a deep breath to calm himself down before he cursed the man through the stone walls of the castle. His fuse was short, especially when it came to Hermione. He knew about the night he tried to corner his witch in Rabastan's manor when he was in Russia the first time. It was one of the only moments in his life he was actually thankful that Thorfinn was around. If the blonde wizard hadn't been there… He shook his head to clear out the thought.

"How about you do as the Dark Lord ordered you and help me find her and I let you live?"

Walden's glare increased for a moment until he broke eye contact. Both men started their trek towards the main entrance to the castle. Antonin could hear the man muttering under his breath. He didn't really want to know what he was saying. It couldn't be any good.

"I'm sure Nott would let me have a sample," he mumbled.

Antonin almost missed the remark. If there had been even a small group of students roaming the corridor at that moment he would never have heard it. Unfortunately for Walden, his hearing was excellent. In one swift movement that Walden didn't even have the opportunity to block, Antonin had the man up against the wall with his forearm on the man's throat and his wand in his neck.

"Either we find her in twenty-four hours or you die."

They were interrupted by the arrival of Theodore Nott flanked by Vincent Crabbe and Gary Goyle. A small group consisting of Jugson and his witch Edana and a couple of other junior Death Eaters that Antonin never learned the names of followed up behind. His eyes were still focused solely on Walden when Theodore spoke.

"I would wish you good luck on finding your witch, Antonin, but I won't mean it."

Antonin dropped his grip on Walden to turn around to face Nott. He was smirking and his eyes were twinkling with malice. Over the heads of the group that was steadily forming around the wizards, Antonin caught the eye of young Theo. The tall, thin wizard towered over many of their compatriots. Immediately, young Theo dropped his eyes, his face bright red. No doubt he was ashamed of the spectacle his father was making.

"I've heard a great deal of rumors about your Mudblood," Theodore continued. "I'm looking forward to finding out if they are all true."

He didn't want to acknowledge the man's taunts, but his curiosity was piqued. What was he referring to? What kind of rumors were being spread haphazardly through the ranks of the Death Eaters? He never wanted his witch to be the subject of idle gossip even though he subconsciously already knew. His confused expression must have been more obvious than he intended. He really needed to work harder at masking his facial expressions where Hermione was involved. Theodore began to laugh.

"We all went to Hogwarts, Antonin. We all know the tendency of the little Gryffin-whores to just give it all away to whatever wizard looks in their direction," Theodore explained. "According to my son…"

Antonin's eyes met Theo's horrified greens. The young wizard subtly shook his head to indicate he had no idea what his father was about to say.

"… your little Mudblood was fairly _selective_ in her affections. There must be something special about her that caused Harry Potter to share her with the little Weasley brat. And then knowing yours and Thorfinn's ongoing feud over her, it does make me wonder just what she is hiding underneath those skirts of hers."

There were too many witnesses to allow Antonin to attack the man for his remarks. Too close to the Dark Lord to get away unscathed if he were to act upon his impulses. One false move and he would be sprawled back on the floor in front of the Dark Lord and Hermione would be at risk of being in Theodore Nott's clutches. It might be one meeting with his master that he never returned home from.

"Good luck, Antonin," Theodore laughed as he and the rest of the group pushed past.

Walden and Antonin resumed their path towards the exit moments after the group disappeared around the corner. They did not speak again until they reached the gates on the edge of the castle grounds.

"We need to go to your cottage," Walden announced.

The last person Antonin wanted to give access to the wards surrounding the home he shared with Hermione was Walden Macnair. Somehow despite the fact that two women had already been killed in brutal fashions in their home, bringing Walden into their sanctuary seemed almost like a sacrilegious act. This was a man who made his desire to rape his witch well known. To allow him access to their home frightened Antonin.

"I know you don't want me there," Walden continued. "You can fix your enchantments when we've found your witch, but I must have access. Do you want to find her or not?"

He didn't respond. Simply grasped Macnair's elbow and Apparated them to the front garden of the cottage. The residual pain from the repeated curses increased with the squeeze of the Apparition. He released Walden's elbow before collapsing to his knees.

"You have any special locks on the door?" Walden asked, ignoring the man trying to catch his breath.

Antonin was able to shake his head in response. Walden disappeared through the front door before he was able to stand back up. The other wizard was staring at the dark red spot in the floor where Alecto's body had been laying for an unknown amount of time. Walden was struggling not to vomit again at the smell permeating the entire cottage and the gore left behind.

"Brutal way to go," he said to Antonin in almost a whisper.

He didn't respond past a nod of his head. Thinking about the last moments of Alecto Carrow's life only served to feed his anxiety for Hermione. He _assumed_ that since she was missing and so was her dog that she had survived the ordeal, but he knew that there was a possibility that she was taken by an even more sinister individual. The past weeks while he was freezing in Russia she could've been tortured and murdered. If he dwelled on it too long, he was concerned he wouldn't be able to do what was needed to find her again.

"You said you think it was your girl's dog?"

"Yes," Antonin responded, choking down the lump in his throat. "He's always been very protective of her. It wasn't a spell that cut Carrow's neck. You could tell it was a bite."

"I'll take your word on it. Didn't want to look too closely at the poor girl. I'd rather remember her how I liked her best… on her knees with that cheeky little grin of hers."

Antonin turned his attention away from the blood spot in an effort not to have to think too hard on Walden's remark. He knew about their past together, their understanding. Just because he knew about it didn't mean that he wanted to hear about it. When he turned, he noticed the wooden mantle above the fireplace. In just a few steps he stood in front of it. The edge of the wood was knocked off. Blood and a clump of familiar curly brown hair clung to the scarred mantle. He felt a jolt in his stomach realizing that Hermione must have been injured in her altercation with Alecto.

"You ever think that maybe you should've just fucked the witch to prevent all of this bloodshed?" Walden asked.

He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. How dare he ask such a question? Did he have no sense of decency? Antonin shook his head. Of course he didn't.

"I told her a thousand times I wasn't interested," he responded. "She should've given up months and months ago, but no, she couldn't just take 'no' for an answer. There was something seriously fucked up about that woman. And then the plan she and her brother made at Rabastan's party…"

"Yeah, I know what you're talking about," Walden said as he held up a hand to stop him from continuing. "I knew all about their plans. Allie always enjoyed a bit of pillow talk."

Antonin's wand was out and in Walden's direction before he finished speaking. _He knew?_ _He knew and didn't tell anyone?_ Before Antonin could get a single spell shot off in the other man's direction, Walden had a shield up.

"Do I need to remind you again, Antonin, that if we do not cooperate that the Dark Lord could reassign Hermione to Nott regardless of who finds her? Do you want to risk losing her because you are upset that I didn't tell you their plans?"

Walden dropped his shield and moved towards the kitchen without giving Antonin a chance to respond. Antonin ran his hand across the mantle one final time before following after Walden. He found the other wizard already inside their bedroom rummaging through their dresser.

"What are you doing?" Antonin demanded.

Macnair was pulling out Hermione's knickers with a demented grin on his face.

"Lovely."

Antonin summoned all of her knickers to him. He couldn't stand the thought of that man touching them. Walden laughed and opened another drawer. He removed Hermione's black silk pajamas with another grin. Before Antonin could protest or summon them, he ripped the top into several shreds. Walden conjured a large murder of crows from the end of his wand. The birds flew around the room squawking and making a giant mess all over their bed. Antonin watched Walden give each crow a shred of fabric and then send them flying out the open bedroom window. All of the birds flew off in different directions.

"They will seek out your witch," Walden explained. "Now I think we should go to the last place we know she was at."

Both men moved to the back door. Macnair muttered a spell on the way out of the cottage that opened every single window. It was clear that he was simply offering a way to air the wretched smell out of the home. Antonin would've been grateful if it had been done by anyone else. Gratitude for Walden Macnair was a foreign concept.

They arrived at the Goyles' house moments later. Gary was waiting for them at the front door to usher them in. He had been expecting them to come by since he found out that Hermione had been in his house on the day of her disappearance. Greg was standing in their living room, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot waiting for the inevitable confrontation with his former employer. Recognizing the boy's fear, Antonin crossed the room immediately to shake his hand.

"I apologize for accusing you of lying, Gregory," he said, ignoring the other two wizards listening in to their discussion. "If I'd known that Lucius was involved I would've known there were memory charms involved. The man is known for his."

"I'm very sorry too, Mr. Dolohov. For everything."

He could hardly meet Antonin's eyes. His cheeks and neck were bright red. Antonin clapped him on the shoulder.

"You are not at fault, Gregory. Alecto and Lucius carry all of the blame."

Antonin joined Walden in searching the area for any of remaining magical trace left behind by either Hermione or Lucius. They were hoping that they could figure out where they went to after they left the Goyles' home. As it was, Antonin didn't have a clue where to look next. She could be anywhere. If Lucius was the one who had her, he had unlimited funds at his disposal. He probably even had enough clout with the rebels to smuggle her out of the country. He tried to ignore the stinging pain in his gut that told him there was a possibility he was too late and would never see her again.

"Looks like Lucius swept the area clean," announced Walden, though Antonin was already well aware. "Maybe we should check his manor next. He hasn't been living there since he was outed as a rebel, but maybe we can find something there."

Antonin nodded his head once in agreement. As he prepared to leave the house he was stopped by Gregory.

"Is there anything I can help with, Mr. Dolohov?" he asked. "Is there something I can do at the cottage?"

He hated to ask the boy to clean up the remnants of Alecto and to get the cottage bearable to live in once more, but he planned on paying him handsomely for the odious task. Gregory was happy to jump at the chance to assist. Obviously he was almost as worried about Hermione as Antonin. His guilt was palpable. Antonin made him a special portkey before shaking his hand and exiting the front door.

Malfoy Manor was abandoned. It was almost eerie. Every time Antonin had been there in the past it had been busy with activity. To see the grass overgrown and the windows dirty was something he wasn't used to seeing. Walden felt no compunction in blasting the ornate front door off of its hinges. The stale smell of the air in the manor made it seem as if the large home had been abandoned for years instead of just months. Macnair cast the human revealing spell and as expected, found nothing. The dust coating every surface indicated that it had been some time since anyone had been by. There wasn't any chance that Hermione was hidden somewhere upstairs in a lavish guest room or huddled in the cellar.

"No one is here," Walden said. "Where to now?"

Antonin started casting a series of intricate wards around the entire manor. He wanted to be informed the _moment_ someone crossed the threshold of the house. These enchantments weren't exactly what one might consider legal, but he was a Death Eater for Rowena's sake! The illegality of an action didn't necessarily stop him from continuing. Lucius knew where his witch was. If there was a chance that the blonde git would risk a trip home, Antonin wanted to know about it. He wanted to confront the man and force him to take him to his Hermione.

"Where to next?"

He didn't answer the man. Antonin waited until he finished the wards and then simply grasped Walden's elbow. Moments later they landed in the back garden of the home on the outskirts of London that Antonin hadn't been to since the day of the last battle. The back door was wide open indicating a recent visit. Both men had their wands unsheathed and prepared for battle before Antonin crossed into the kitchen.

Somehow Antonin couldn't imagine Hermione recklessly coming back to her parents' home and not securing the back door. It didn't sound like something she would do even if she was under duress. The more he thought about the damage done to his fireplace mantle and what it would've done to the precious curly head he'd become more than just accustomed to, he grew ever more anxious. He used to be so good at compartmentalizing his fears before she walked into his life. Now all he could think of was his witch.

A quick spell revealed no human presence in the modest home. Antonin was convinced that someone had been there recently. He rushed through every room of the house looking for some indication that it had been Hermione. Maybe she spent some time in her old bedroom recovering from the injury she sustained in her encounter with Alecto. Walden took his time surveying the rooms in more detail. The older wizard kept looking to the sky outside, no doubt expecting one of his many crows to come find him at any moment.

"What are those crows for?" Antonin asked. He'd been curious at the cottage, but hadn't really wanted to encourage a conversation with the man he hated.

"Tracking birds," the gruff man replied. "I took your witch's nightie so they'd have the scent."

"I didn't think that birds were capable of scent tracking."

Macnair leveled an amused look at Antonin and chuckled that raspy, awful laughter that always made Antonin want to cover his ears.

"Those weren't regular birds, boy. They came out of the end of my wand, didn't they?"

Antonin hated to admit that he was intensely curious about anything the other man was capable of, but damn it, he'd been gifted, or rather _cursed_ , with an active and inquisitive mind. Since he was a small boy he had been interested in learning how everything around him worked. How many times did he get scolded by his mum for dismantling their household items with his father's forbidden tools? It was the same mind that kept his nose buried in a book from the moment he first could put the sounds of the letters together until he was too busy following the Dark Lord as a young man. Part of the reason he took so long to ask Anna out on a date was because he was too busy reading in a secluded corner of the library to even notice the way the young witch looked in his direction. Reluctantly, Antonin asked Walden to continue his explanation.

"Just a little spell I created years ago. Been very helpful in tracking down those the Dark Lord requires," he explained. "They will seek out where the scent is strongest. Usually that just means where they've been living. Haven't gotten it perfected to the point yet where they can find them in person every time. Once they pick up a trail, the bird will return to me and I can Apparate directly there."

"I can see how that could be useful. Why haven't you used it when searching for Undesirables?"

Walden's eyes narrowed again. This was obviously a sore subject.

"You don't think I've tried? You have to find a personal item that you are _positive_ belonged to the person in question. That hasn't always been easy. And then of course, they don't always lead you to where the person _is_ , but rather where they've _been_."

Antonin also hated to admit that he was impressed by anything of Walden Macnair's creation. Too often it was easy to simply write the man off as being cruel muscle. He tended to forget that there actually was a rather prodigious brain behind his grizzled features. Just because the man enjoyed dealing in cruelty didn't mean he wasn't capable of some rare feats of intelligence. Indeed the Dark Lord needed more than just mindless muscle in his organization. If the rumors were true that Walden was actually charged with the task of hunting unicorns for the Dark Lord, he would have to be an exceptional wizard. Unicorns were notoriously difficult to track and hunt down. Not for the first time Antonin realized just what a false persona the older wizard projected to the rest of the world.

"Hopefully we'll get lucky and one of my birdies will find her while she's still sleeping."

Both men continued their thorough investigation of the Muggles' house hoping that some clue or indication that Hermione had been there recently would pop out at them. Antonin took his time in Hermione's old bedroom. It was obvious by the condition of the room that someone had been in there searching for something lately. There were places where the dust of many, many months of no habitation was disturbed by smeared footprints. He checked through the entire room for some reason that persons unknown would be looking through his witch's childhood bedroom, but came up empty.

"Don't think we're going to find anything here," Walden said as he entered the room.

Antonin wanted to ask the man to leave. Somehow seeing the wizard notorious for his liking of underage witches inside Hermione's childhood bedroom was perverse. The man's eyes surveyed the room with an intensity that made Antonin want to curse him. He assumed that the man was imagining what it would be like to walk into this room to find the younger version of Hermione waiting there unarmed and at his mercy. When the creepy smirk crossed his lips at the sight of several of her old pictures piled on top of her desk, Antonin suggested they leave the home at once.

While he waited for inspiration to strike him to figure out where they would check next, Antonin stood in the backyard to place similar wards over the entire property that he had with Malfoy Manor. There were some noticeable differences of course. With Malfoy's property he didn't bother placing an enchantment that would keep undesirables out. He simply wanted to be made aware if anyone breached the boundaries. Antonin didn't want anyone else to have free access to Hermione's childhood home following the leers he witnessed on Walden's countenance. He took his time adding protection after protection. Walden was surprisingly patient as it took him almost an hour to ward the house to his stringent specifications. Naturally he added the same ward that would alert him to any presence of human life crossing onto the property.

"Let's check Potter's house," Antonin suggested. "Remember how to get there?"

"Yes, I had to stand a couple of days out in the rain in front of the damned house."

Grimmauld Place was even more of a disappointment. At least there it had been obvious that no one had been there in quite a while. A thick layer of undisturbed dust covered every surface in the once grand house. The two wizards cast spells to determine if there was any human presence that sadly came up empty.

Antonin was ready to snap in frustration. He had had an exhausting forty-eight hours. His plans for a quick tumble in the sheets with his witch followed by a decadently long nap when he returned from Russia were shattered by the discovery of a dead body in his living room. The day before had been grueling with the multiple Apparitions from Russia to Scotland. This day was shaping up to be nearly as arduous. Factor in the repeated bouts of the Cruciatus Curse that he could still feel the after-effects of, Antonin was moving around on pure determination. He knew that if he didn't find Hermione soon he was at the risk of losing her completely. Thinking of her trapped in Nott's gaudy, immense manse made his wand hand itch. He would not be a merciful captor. She would not be treated as she deserved.

In a repeat of the last time he was in Potter's damned house, Antonin punched the wall of the entry hall. The wood shattered right along with the bones in his hand. Walden snorted when he saw the blood dripping from his clenched fist.

"Maybe we should check the Weasleys old home," Walden suggested. "Wasn't she practically a member of the family?"

Antonin nodded.

"Well, maybe she went there searching for them. I'm sure she felt comfortable there."

It was midmorning when their feet landed on the dirt yard in front of what had once been a rather whimsical home. Antonin had been there before as part of a raiding party searching for the missing members of the Weasley family. After Molly Weasley's murder of Bellatrix Lestrange, the Dark Lord had called for all members of her family to be found and executed publicly. One of the twins and the youngest boy never made it past Hogwarts on the same day their mother died. Arthur was captured and locked up in Azkaban. The Dark Lord wanted him to be kept alive until all of his children were found and slaughtered. It was a devious plan that meant nothing after the prisoners were sprung from the prison. Antonin couldn't remember how many other Weasley children were on the run. Hermione named them all for him once, but he couldn't keep them straight. All he could remember was the surviving twin was George and he was Undesirable No 3 and the oldest was Undesirable No 5. Their ranks had been adjusted following Hermione's supposed lifetime incarceration.

A simple sign naming this home as "The Burrow" was the only bit of the property that was undamaged. The home itself was half-burnt and fully looted. While he knew the Weasleys had never been a family of much means, it was obvious that the others who came before him had found plenty to pull from the wreckage of the home. No doubt there were plenty of souvenir hunters longing for a piece of the notorious family they could bring out at tea parties to show their boring guests. Antonin couldn't help but feel a bit sad at the ruined state of the family home. This had once been a place of happy occasions. He vaguely remembered bursting in on the eldest boy's wedding before being sent to investigate whoever set off the taboo on the Dark Lord's name.

"Don't think anyone's been here for a while either," Walden said even though there was no need.

Antonin wanted to run his hand through another wall, but his unhealed injuries were still pulsing with pain. He ran his wand over the hand, sighing in relief as the cracked bones and sliced skin knitted together. They were running out of time and he still had no idea where to go. He was afraid that the rebels found her and were hiding her in one of their many Secret Kept safe houses. Considering she was the only Undesirable that had been captured since the war ended, he was well aware of how capable the other side was of protecting their own. If she hadn't been alone for nine months, she probably would not have been captured by him at all.

"Oh ho! Look!"

Walden pointed off in the distance where a crow was headed straight for them. The bird, still clutching the piece of material from Hermione's pajamas, landed on the wizard's shoulder.

"Looks like we've got our first clue," he announced with a smirk.

"How does this work?"

Macnair seemed reluctant to give away any clues as to how his rather impressive tracking spell worked. He glowered in Antonin's direction, but didn't answer the question.

"If I may say so, son, you look terrible. Why don't you take a short rest while I check out this lead on my own?"

Allow Walden Macnair the opportunity to seek out a known location where Hermione might still be located by himself? How stupid did the man think Antonin was? There was simply no way he was going to allow Macnair to investigate the lead on his own. Antonin rushed to his side to grab his arm in case of Apparition, but was too late. Walden disappeared with a pop and a greedy grin on his face. Antonin felt his stomach recoil in a mixture of fear and dread. What if he found her on her own? What if she wasn't being protected by the rebels and he was able to track her to a secluded area where she had no one to protect her?

He took his fury and frustration out on the only source he could at the moment. Spell after dangerous spell erupted from the end of his wand to completely engulf the abandoned shell of a house in flames. He used blasting spells to send fiery chunks of wood and glass hundreds of yards in the air. Every single ounce of his body was positively vibrating with rage. When there was nothing left to the Burrow but a burning hole in the ground, Antonin collapsed underneath a tree in the garden.

Everything from the past two days hit him at once. Exhaustion from the five thousand miles of travel. The absolute fear of coming home and finding no Hermione and a rotting Alecto. His terrible meeting with the Dark Lord. Repeated exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. Apparating all over the country looking for his witch. Fury at Walden's disappearance. No sleep for much longer than was healthy. Almost complete magical depletion from no rest combined with his temper tantrum. He was asleep under the tree before he could do anything to stop it.

He woke up much later when the sun was gone from the sky. Cursing himself inwardly for allowing his physical body's need to override his mind's desires, he picked himself up out of the dirt. There was no sign of Walden anywhere. His natural pessimism immediately feared that Hermione had been found by the fucking terror and was likely being raped for the third or fourth time that very moment. He felt helpless and completely out of control. It was not a feeling he cared much for. Once again in his miserable existence he was a failure. The one bright spot in his world was gone. If he ever saw her again, she would be altered. Likely she wouldn't want to see him again. What kind of woman desires seeing the man who failed repeatedly to protect her again?

His self-pity was reaching an astounding level when a small tugging in his gut caught his attention. At first he assumed that he was simply feeling the consequences of not having eaten in longer than he really could remember. When the tugging got stronger, he realized it was a warning. Someone had breached the wards at Hermione's parents' house! Hoping for the best but expecting the worst, he Apparated to a park he knew was near the house. A quick spell showed him that the time was already nine in the evening. He was once again furious with himself for staying asleep for as long as he did. So much could've happened in those hours he was passed out in the remnants of the Weasleys' garden.

At least the darkness allowed him to keep to the shadows on the short walk to the front of the house. There was no one out on the streets at this time of night. Mid-October wasn't the mildest month of the year. The large house directly across the street from the Grangers' was dark. He slipped behind the tall hedges to hide himself away from any unfriendly eyes across the street. Years of experience taught him to investigate the area fully before charging in with his wand ready.

The Grangers' house was dark as well. Whoever was inside was intelligent enough to keep the lights off. He could tell by the way the wards were shimmering that someone had tried to dismantle them before entering. Most of his enchantments were lowered, but he could still feel that there were inhabitants walking around the inside of that home. He longed for a glimpse of a certain curly haired witch in a window. If he could verify that she was inside, he would throw caution to the wind and rush over there immediately.

He stood in the hedges for at least fifteen or twenty minutes before he saw any movement across the street. His resolve to remain hidden was slowly breaking down moment by moment. The sound of a familiar crack down the street caught his attention. It was far enough away that if he hadn't been waiting for the sound, he never would've heard it. Only a couple of minutes passed before he witnessed a large, fluffy dog run down the sidewalk. He fought the urge to call out to the familiar canine. If he was there, surely Hermione was there too.

Argos trotted up to the front door of the house like he had done it a thousand times before. He sat on the doormat and began to bark. Antonin was familiar with the bark. It was the one he employed when he'd been outside long enough and was ready to come back inside where it was warm and food was available. He was conditioned to roll his eyes every time he heard the sound and this instance was no exception. The dog grew impatient as his demands were not fulfilled immediately. When he lifted a giant paw to start scratching at the wood, the front door swung open to allow him inside. Unfortunately, Antonin was unable to see just who it was that opened the door.

Part of him still feared that this might be a trap. He disillusioned himself before crossing the dark street. There was an unlocked gate by the side of the Grangers' house that led to the back garden. Carefully lifting the latch to not make any noise, he pushed the gate open. There weren't any lights visible from the back of the house either. Antonin was able to unlock the back door and slip inside the vacant kitchen without anyone noticing.

As he stepped further into the house, two voices became clearer. He could tell they were arguing in hushed whispers long before he was able to recognize who they belonged to. The stealthy walk from the kitchen to the front living room felt like miles. Halfway to the living room he was finally able to identify a voice as Hermione's. She had a certain way about her tone when she was determined she was correct that couldn't be duplicated. He felt his shoulders sag just a little bit with relief. At least he knew she was alive and likely unscathed.

The door to the living room was propped open just enough that he could see inside and still hide in the darkness of the corridor. Hermione was still arguing with her companion. When the unidentified person shifted just enough that moonlight from one of the windows shone in, Antonin realized that his witch was alone with Thorfinn Rowle. He had to suppress a primal growl that was bubbling up inside of him at the knowledge that she was alone with the man he didn't trust. Rowle must have been part of Alecto's plan. Likely they were partners and something went wrong. He ignored the gaping holes in his theory to focus on the wizard. His wand was pointed right at his back.

"You know, Princess, I've always thought there was something strange about him," Thorfinn whispered.

Antonin tensed when he saw Thorfinn turn back around to face the door to the corridor with his wand outstretched. Had he been spotted? His confusion grew when he saw Hermione slip her own wand out of her pocket. Certain that he was about to be hexed or worse in his hiding spot, he stepped back further into the shadows.

"Do you know the incantation?" Hermione asked, hardly moving her lips while she whispered.

"Of course."

Two streaks of bright blue light shot out from the end of Thorfinn's and Hermione's wands. Antonin braced for the impact and prepared to dodge. His throat grew dry when he understood that they weren't casting in his direction.

Argos was encompassed in the bright blue light. Antonin had to turn away to protect his eyes. 


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty Seven

Three horrible days passed in Thorfinn's cabin after the impromptu meeting with the Resistance's leaders on Tower Bridge. They'd promised to be in touch, but Hermione was growing more impatient and despondent as days passed with no word. She could understand that it was difficult to gather all of their leaders together to discuss her desire to discuss them in some way. She understood it was dangerous and perhaps even a bit reckless, but she had to know if any of the people from her former life were the least bit interested in having her in their lives again. Remembering the chill in Kingsley's voice when he spoke to her always made Hermione tear up. Would the day ever come that she could sit with the man over a cup of tea and actually enjoy her discussions with him again? She longed for the days spent at Sirius Black's kitchen table before he died.

Thorfinn had been more than patient with her during her wait for any kind of message. He'd even been kind enough to keep his opinions to himself even though Hermione knew he disagreed with her decision to aid the Resistance. As her mood and spirits gradually deteriorated, he'd been a silent support, offering hot tea and an occasional reassuring squeeze of her shoulder. Neither one of them crossed the line into impropriety following their heated kiss over a week earlier. Hermione continued to catch the wizard watching her as she moved around the small cabin, but he hadn't brought up his confession of his true feelings again.

Only once did he pass over the invisible line in the middle of their shared bed. A night or two after their dismal meeting in London she'd woken up following a terrible dream filled with dark monsters with blank faces. When she woke up in the still-unfamiliar bed with the wrong wizard, she burst into loud, helpless tears. Thorfinn wrapped his strong arms around her to provide what comfort he could. The embrace was sweet, but he was not the man she longed to have spooned up behind her in bed. Thoughts of Antonin only brought about more tears and an ache in her belly.

She missed him terribly and wanted to go home. Any time she mentioned to Thorfinn her desire to return to their cottage, he somehow persuaded her to stay. Sometimes he warned her that the cottage was no longer secure and suggested Alecto might still have some conspirators waiting to finish the job she started. Other times he reminded her that even though Argos was simply defending her, they were both at risk of suffering the Dark Lord's displeasure. The Carrow siblings had been favorites of his for reasons unknown to all. Her execution as well as Argos' painful demise could easily be ordered by the Dark Lord if she somehow popped back up on his radar. They weren't sure where Antonin was or even if he was capable of protecting her any longer. If she tried to return home she might learn that Antonin was punished in her stead and she had a new, less benevolent captor.

All of his well-thought out arguments against her leaving the safety of his cabin didn't keep Hermione from wanting to throw caution and good sense out the window to seek out her wizard. Not a moment went by that she didn't worry about him. There was simply no safe way to find out if he'd returned from Russia yet or not. He had been gone for three weeks already. Maybe he would never have the chance to come home and stumble over Alecto's corpse.

"I can you hear you thinking from over here," Thorfinn teased as he finished up making their lunch. He and Antonin had one other characteristic in common: neither one of them wanted to eat anything she'd prepared. "What's on your mind?"

"The same thing that's been on my mind for three days. You know that."

"Let me ask you a serious question, Princess." Thorfinn placed a plate in front of her and took his seat across the table with his own lunch. "What do you think is going to happen if they refuse you altogether?"

It was a legitimate question. Of course she'd had the fear that after their initial reluctance the men she'd once admired so strongly would simply return with a message that she was not needed or wanted. It stung. Stung badly. Somehow she'd been clinging to the hope that all it would take was her reemergence for them to welcome her back into the fold. It was a naïve expectation. If the rumors of her being a turncloak were as prevalent as the idiot Calliope claimed they were, she would remain untrusted.

"Spend the rest of the war hiding here with you?"

Thorfinn quietly chuckled.

"You are welcome to stay here as long as you need to," he replied. "But I don't think you would be happy to remain here for much longer."

"No, probably not," she agreed. "Are you happy to stay here?"

"Until the morning I was woken up to literally catch a weakened witch in my arms at my front door, I've been bloody miserable."

"And you're not now?"

He took his time before answering his question. Hermione tried not to make him feel too much on the spot by directing her attention to the plate in front of her.

"You've given my wretched existence a purpose. First when you needed me to care for you as you recovered and now as at least a temporary protector."

"I can take care of myself," she insisted with more vigor than was needed.

He chuckled again.

"I know, I know. You are a powerful witch, Hermione. You don't _need_ me, but you have to admit that it feels nice to have someone else watching your back."

Of course it did. She appreciated the presence of another person in the cabin especially one that could make her laugh as much as he could. If she had had someone on the run with her during those terrible nine months, maybe they wouldn't have been so terrible. Thoughts of sharing the tent with Thorfinn for months on end made her laugh. That would have certainly been an unforgettable experience. If they'd been able to make it out of there both alive and with all limbs still attached, there might have even been some kind of future for the two of them together.

"You're right." She sighed. "You usually are."

"Just don't forget that, Princess," he answered with a wink and another chuckle.

Their lunch continued in a companionable silence. Hermione wasn't up to discussing any more of her fears. It wasn't necessary. Thorfinn understood. He was a great deal more intuitive than she had ever given him credit for. Before she had really gotten to know him it was too easy to completely write him off as being nothing but another large, muscled idiot with a handsome face. To her benefit, she'd learned he had more to him than just that.

Argos began barking at the arrival of a misty, silver snake. Hermione screamed when she saw the patronus that resembled Nagini to a disturbing degree and her temporary roommate shuddered when he thought of the atrocities he'd witnessed the same snake commit firsthand. The witch was the only one of the three that relaxed when the mouth of the snake opened and began to speak.

 _"Hermione, it's Neville. We want to meet you. Please come_ alone _to Snuffles' cave outside of Hogsmeade as soon as possible."_

The snake dissolved the moment the message ended. Argos settled down only a fraction with the patronus gone. He placed his large head in Hermione's lap and began to whine. Thorfinn narrowed his eyes at the space the misty creature just vacated. His opinion on the potential meeting was obvious without a word being spoken. It wasn't until Hermione jumped up from the table ignoring her dog underfoot to pull her boots on.

"You can't seriously be thinking of going," Thorfinn said, his displeasure at her eagerness palpable.

"Of course I am. That was Neville!"

"Yeah, the arse that stunned me in Hogsmeade. I'm familiar with the bloke."

Thorfinn crossed the cabin to sit next to Hermione on the bed. Argos trotted behind him. Together her men were going to talk her out of going. Neither of them was comfortable with her running off to meet with the Resistance.

"This could all be a big trap," added Thorfinn. "What if they are just lying in wait for you to pop up so they can capture you? You said yourself that they think you are some kind of traitor Death Eater whore."

"Neville would never hurt me."

"Maybe _he_ wouldn't, but who did he mean by 'we'? I didn't like the way the auror looked at you the other day. He doesn't trust you."

She felt a stab in her heart as the words dripped off of his tongue about Kingsley. That was one reminder she didn't really need. Choosing to ignore the heaviness in her stomach, she laced up her boots without responding. He wasn't going to talk her out of going to the meeting no matter what he said. He would have to tie her up to keep her in the cabin.

"I can see you are determined," he continued. "All right, but I'm coming with you."

"No, Neville said to come alone. He was very specific about that."

"Hermione, I'm not letting you leave to run off to some secret meeting with who knows how many rebels on your own. I promised my sister that I would keep you safe. I promised _myself_ I'd keep you safe."

Knowing that she wouldn't be able talk him out of coming, she sighed and headed to the door. Argos tried to leave with them. He wasn't used to being left behind.

"No, I'm sorry, big boy. I need you to stay here," Hermione crooned as she scratched Argos behind his ears. "I'll be all right. Thorfinn is coming with me."

It almost broke her heart to hear the whine coming out of Argos' mouth when they finally closed the door to the cabin. Thorfinn placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder to lead her away from the cabin before she changed her mind. Argos' whines echoed in their ears until they passed through the wards.

"Where on earth is 'Snuffles' Cave'?" Thorfinn asked before they apparated. He had his hand on her elbow to allow her to apparate them there safely, but he was still curious. "I've never heard of it."

"It's a cave outside of Hogsmeade that Sirius Black used to hide in," she explained. "Harry and I used to smuggle him food from the kitchens when he lived there."

Before he could ask her to elaborate on her checkered past of aiding and abetting known fugitives, she'd apparated them to the chilly outskirts of Hogsmeade. There was a short climb up to the cave in question. It didn't take them very long, but each step higher and closer to their destination made Hermione grow more restless and nervous. She was fairly certain how the others would treat Thorfinn's arrival, but she was unsure what her reception would be like. Would they simply refuse to speak to her since she brought along an escort?

The inhabitants of the cave were unable to see the two new arrivals until they were at the mouth of the cave. This, naturally, worked to Hermione's and Thorfinn's advantage. A shout out from one of the men warned the others waiting that there was an unwelcome addition to Hermione's visit. Thorfinn was able to pull his wand out to protect himself. Hermione, on the other hand, threw all of her energy into creating a protective bubble that completely encompassed Thorfinn. She had no concern for herself.

Her instincts were accurate. Curses flew out of the wands of every Resistance leader waiting for her arrival. They all fell off the shield harmlessly. Nothing had been sent hurling in her direction. When the four men waiting just inside the cave prepared themselves for a second assault, Hermione stood in front of the protected blonde.

"Nice shield, Princess." Thorfinn was visibly impressed by the spell.

"Thanks. I picked up a few tips from your sister."

For the first time she truly felt like she was the enemy. Looking into the eyes of her former Order members, she could see only coldness and mistrust. Even in sweet Neville's less rounded face she saw an element of wariness. It threatened to shatter her resolve and the remnants of her heart. Only the soft, half-smile from the handsome wizard standing next to Kingsley that she'd only met once before calmed her down slightly.

"Thorfinn is under my protection," she announced to the assembled group. "No harm is to come to him. If anyone, _anyone_ tries to curse him again, I promise you that I will curse you back and then I will disappear forever."

Three sets of familiar eyes narrowed in her direction. She could see the fourth wizard place a soft hand on Kingsley's back in an obvious effort to calm the former auror. For several long moments both sides stared at each other waiting for a hostile move. When no one moved to curse Thorfinn, Hermione cautiously removed the shield. With a quiet whisper to the Death Eater in hiding, the others witnessed them both place their wands back in their pockets and show their empty hands.

"We are just here to talk," Hermione explained. "Thorfinn is my escort. Just as he was last time. Neither one of us mean any of you harm."

Neville was different from even the last time she saw him in Diagon Alley months before. There was a hardness in her friend that she never would've expected to see. It was obvious that the year and a half since the end of the official war had not been easy for him. Being Undesirable No 1 was taking a toll. She was surprised to see that he had grown taller than the last time they were together. Of course even during the battle itself she hadn't spent much time with her first Hogwarts friend. There had been too much going on to allow any decent amount of time to catch up.

Bill and Kingsley looked exactly the same as they had that morning on Tower Bridge, right down to the suspicious and cold expressions on their familiar faces. It still pained her greatly to see two men she had always admired greatly look down on her as if she were the enemy. How could anyone believe that she would willingly betray them all?

She was surprised to see the attractive wizard Ryan she'd met the night Antonin captured her in Inverness. He was the only face that showed a hint of smile in the midst of the tense situation. Clinging to any amount of welcome she could, she extended her hand to the man. He removed his right hand from Kingsley's back to grasp hers.

"I am pleased to see that you were able to get away from the pub that night," she said, ignoring every other man standing near her. "I was worried."

"Thank you, Hermione," Ryan replied with a broad grin. "I'm only sorry that I wasn't more of a help. Lucius and I had a plan to rescue you, but…"

He shook his head sadly remembering the failure of their last minute plan. She released his hand to pull the practical stranger closer for a hug. The embrace only lasted a few seconds before she felt Thorfinn's hand on her arm and she witnessed Kingsley's hand on Ryan's. He didn't release his hold on her arm, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the Resistance leaders.

No one spoke for several minutes. They all simply stared at each other waiting for the right moment to say whatever they were afraid to say. Finally, Hermione could stand it no longer.

"Are all of the rumors true, then?" she asked.

Only the furrowing of four brows across from her gave her any indication that any of the men heard her when she spoke. None moved to respond. Hermione sighed loudly. This meeting was nothing like she hoped and expected. It was turning out to be much more like what Thorfinn had spent the previous three days preparing her for. Nothing was going to be simple.

"Do all of you believe that I'm nothing but a Death Eater whore?" The words spilled out of her mouth, dripping with anger and bitterness. Four sets of eyes widened. The hand still on her arm squeezed her slightly. "Or maybe you all believe that I betrayed Harry and I have been working on the wrong side all along? Or maybe you think _I'm_ the one that killed him?"

All of the men shifted uncomfortably on their feet at her words. One by one they each began to lower their wands.

"I'd like to admit that we've never heard any of those rumors before, Hermione," Bill finally said. "But it would be a lie. There are a number of people on our side who worry that you are not worthy to be trusted any longer."

"Fair enough," she responded. "Thank you for being honest with me, Bill. I really do appreciate your candor. It's much better than no one coming right out and admitting the truth that you are all concerned that I'm the enemy."

"It would be hard to imagine that you willingly had anything to do with Death Eaters if it weren't…"

Bill stopped his remark before he finished, but not before Hermione say the way his eyes passed over Thorfinn. She didn't have to be a Legilimens to understand what he was trying to say.

"You already expressed your concerns about Thorfinn the last time we met," she answered. "Believe me when I say that he is at just as much risk of being captured and killed as any of you are. I wasn't lying the other day when I said he's been forced into hiding too. He's been protecting me since… well, I was attacked and had to leave where I was staying fairly quickly."

"Did Dolohov hurt you?" Bill demanded.

"No! No, he has been wonderful to me." She ignored the looks that passed between the four men. "Alecto Carrow tried to kill me, but my dog ripped her throat out with his teeth."

"Sounds like a good dog," muttered Neville. "Did she suffer?"

Hermione didn't miss the hint of malice in his green eyes. She knew that he had been a victim repeatedly during the Carrows Reign of Terror his last year at Hogwarts.

"Yes, it was rather gruesome, I'm afraid. Lucius and Thorfinn's younger sister Reina helped get me somewhere safe to recover. Thorfinn has been in hiding since Azkaban. He's been taking care of me. Alecto hit me with some curse that made breathing almost impossible. I've been living with him since."

"Where's Dolohov?" asked Bill. He seemed fixated on her wizard.

"He wasn't there," she answered. "He was in Russia when…"

She didn't miss the way Bill's head turned to Kingsley's immediately at the admission. Too late she realized that maybe she should've kept quiet about his whereabouts. It could mean his death if she wasn't careful. Just because she loved him didn't mean that the Resistance was unwilling to kill him if they found out where he was.

"He wasn't there," she repeated. "So, you both said that you would have to talk to the others before you made a decision about whether or not there was something I could do to assist the Resistance. Have you decided?"

Neville was finally the one that spoke.

"You know, 'Mione, I've had to do a lot of growing up lately," he started. "I've had to start thinking like a good father and a good husband…"

"Wait, what?" She held up a hand to stop him from continuing. "You're married? And a dad?"

Neville smiled the first broad smile since she arrived.

"Hannah and I finally made it official. Little Frank was born just a few weeks ago."

Hermione threw her arms around her old friend. Surprised at first, Neville wrapped his own arms around her back and just held her. It felt wonderful to be in a familiar embrace. She couldn't stop the tears that began to roll down her cheeks. Neville was the one to break the squeeze. He stepped back from her a few steps. Taking the hint that he didn't want to be close to her any longer, she moved back to Thorfinn. His hand made its way to her shoulder in a visible show of support. She appreciated knowing that she had one ally.

"Because I have a family now, I have to be very careful who I allow to know my secrets. Surely you can understand that, Hermione."

It sounded like a dismissal. She waited for the rest of the words she was sure would break her heart.

"I don't like seeing _him_ standing with you," Neville said, gesturing towards Thorfinn. "Do you know how many times he has tried and failed to kill me?"

"There are many who believe that you have switched sides," added Kingsley with a sneer. The more time she spent with him, the less he reminded her of the warm man she fought alongside with the night they moved Harry to the Burrow. "We have to examine all of the possibilities."

"I want to help," she said, trying to stifle the desperation seeping into her voice. "I feel an obligation to help. I loved Harry too!"

The four Resistance members exchanged uncomfortable glances between each other for the dozenth time.

"Do you still live with Dolohov?" Bill asked. "I mean, if Carrow never attacked you, would you still be living with him?"

"Yes," she answered without shame.

"I attacked him at Azkaban. Did you know that?"

"Yes, you almost killed him."

"Yeah, well, that was the point," he responded also without shame. "Kingsley and Ryan helped. At one point Kings shouted at him while we were demanding he tell us where you were that you meant nothing to him. Dolohov shouted back that we were wrong. What _exactly_ do you mean to him?"

Thorfinn's hand tightened on her shoulder slightly. Once again she appreciated the support. If she had had to do this alone she wasn't sure what her reaction would've been. Probably embarrassingly weak.

"Antonin is my protector," she replied. "When I was captured, I was sentenced to Azkaban. He was ordered by the Dark… by You Know Who, to take me out of prison and keep me safe."

"Why?"

"We have no idea."

Kingsley scoffed.

"Funny thing about Dolohov," Shacklebolt said. "Apparently he _requested_ you as a war prize from the _Dark Lord_. We have spoken to witnesses who were there in the Great Hall that day who confirmed it. Why do you think that is, Granger?"

The harsh way he spat out her last name was the final break in her resolve. They'd been on first name terms since before her fifth year at Hogwarts. _Years_ they had been friendly enough to not bother with surnames. It was one final reminder that Shacklebolt no longer believed they were on the same side.

"Antonin has done nothing but keep me protected," she insisted. Her anger was steadily rising. "You all know I was a target. Where the other Death Eaters might have simply locked me up in a cellar as some sort of fucked up sex slave, Antonin has kept me protected. Do _not_ presume to know what is going on."

"I never wanted to believe the rumors were true, 'Mione," Bill replied, his voice as quiet as a whisper. "Dolohov is responsible for murdering my uncles, murdering Remus and almost killing you too. I can't forget his crimes."

"This isn't about Antonin. This is about me."

"No, you're wrong. If he is a part of your life, we cannot have anything to do with you," he continued. "I'm afraid that you've spent too much time alone with Death Eaters. It's obvious that you are changed. I'm sorry, Hermione, but I am not willing to put my family at risk. We've already lost too much. I don't want you anywhere near the Resistance and I hope my partners here will agree with me."

Bill acted as if he wanted to embrace her, but at the last second he simply walked past her down the path. She watched him disappear before turning her attention back to the remaining members.

"You already know my feelings," said Kingsley, following the same path without a second glance in her direction.

"My place is with Kingsley," Ryan said, the only one who seemed the least bit saddened by the turn of events. "I truly wish you well, Hermione."

Ryan placed a kiss on her cheek reminiscent of the night they met. With a final sad smile he rushed after Kingsley leaving Neville alone with the two outsiders.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione. I really am."

Neville followed. Hermione watched all of the men disappear down the path before dissolving into tears. Thorfinn pulled her shaking form into his chest to allow her to cry to her heart's content. He ran his hands up and down her back, whispering soothing words into her hair. Even though he knew he had been right, he took no joy in her broken heart.

"Fuck them," he whispered.

"What?"

She pushed away from his chest in a daze to stare up at his smiling face.

"I said, 'Fuck them'."

Hermione felt a giggle bubble up in her chest. She wasn't over their rejection. Likely it would be a wound that would fester for a long time to come, but she could appreciate Thorfinn's attempt at humor. It helped to break up the tension in the moment.

"Let's go home, Princess."

She allowed him to lead her back down the path to the point where they Apparated in. There were enchantments around Snuffles' cave that prevented Apparition too close. Moments later they were within a short walking distance to his cabin. He didn't relinquish hold of her hand and she didn't attempt to shrug him off. She needed some reminder that not everyone hated her.

They passed through the ring of protective wards surrounding the cabin to find a smirking Walden Macnair standing by the front door. His back was to the couple. Despite his honed reflexes, Thorfinn was able to disarm the man with a single flick of his wrist. Instead of being frightened by suddenly having no wand, Macnair simply started laughing. His eyes darted between the two and his laughter grew louder. A crow sat on his shoulder with a scrap of fabric in its beak.

"Antonin will be glad to know you've been alone with Thorfinn all this time," Walden said. "He's been so worried."

"Antonin is back?" Hermione asked, ignoring the threat behind his words.

"He's in a bit of trouble because of you," Walden laughed. "I'm here to bring you to the Dark Lord."

Hermione didn't hesitate. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, she sent a powerful stunner straight to Macnair's chest. The wizard crumpled to the ground in a heap. Thorfinn followed her spell up with an incarcerous.

"It's not safe to stay here any longer, Princess. We have to go _now_. Death Eaters never go out on missions like this alone."

Hermione conjured a patronus.

 _"Thorfinn's cabin has been breached. We are headed to safety. Macnair is stunned and tied up waiting for you."_

The sound of a stick breaking just around the side of the cabin spurred the two into action. As soon as the otter disappeared amongst the trees, Thorfinn grasped Hermione's hand to pull her back to the Apparition point. Hermione took the initiative to Apparate them away from the area before they were captured.

Their feet landed on the top step of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. She wasn't sure what brought her to the house she hadn't been in since the day she accidentally brought Yaxley along for the ride, but it was the first place she thought of. Maybe all of the unpleasantness from earlier in the day with the men of the Order made her remember. Once upon a time she had been almost happy in the crumbling mansion.

Thorfinn cast the human presence revealing spell before he allowed her to step past the dim entry hall. Naturally no one was in the house. She would've been shocked if there had been anyone.

"Looks like someone has been here recently," Thorfinn said.

He crouched down on the floor to inspect the footprints in the dust. Hermione had never been very good at tracking, but even her untrained eyes could see two distinctive sets of footprints. Heavy footprints from the look of them. They followed them all over the entire house. Apparently there didn't exist a room in which the footprints couldn't be found.

"Fuck! I forgot about Argos. We have to go back."

Hermione rushed towards the staircase, but Thorfinn stopped her with just a simple hand on her arm.

"Argos will be fine," he assured her. "We can't go back. It's too dangerous. We don't know who else was with Macnair."

"We can just sneak back there for a minute. Look around and then get him."

She shrugged out of his grasp.

"Princess, no! Argos is all right. He killed fucking Alecto Carrow! He will be fine."

His assurances did little to calm her down, but she understood the need to remain where they were at. Besides, if they were lucky, Reina and Lucius would already be at the cabin taking care of Macnair. Knowing Reina's history with the disgusting excuse for a human being, she knew she would be the perfect person to send her patronus to. She relaxed just a bit knowing that neither of them would allow any harm to come to her dog if they were able to stop it.

"You're right."

"Remember I told you not to forget that."

Thorfinn took her hand in his and led them both into the nearest bedroom. Their tour of the house brought them to the uppermost floor where the Black brothers had their bedrooms. She recognized the faded green décor as belonging to Regulus Black's room.

"You're still recovering," Thorfinn said as he led her over to the dusty bed. He waved his wand to clear up the grime. "It's been a long day. You should take a nap. We'll figure out what to do next when you wake up."

"Anyone ever tell you that you're bloody annoying?"

"Lately I've been hearing that every single day. Some days more than once."

Hermione lay down on the once luxurious bed.

"And I've meant it every time I said it," she replied.

Thorfinn sat down on the bed next to her. He didn't seem in need of a nap, but didn't want to leave her alone. With his back rested up against the headboard, he picked up a discarded book on the side table. Hermione hated to admit that he was correct even when her eyes began to droop. She was moments away from slipping into some reluctantly needed sleep when a familiar sound jarred her awake completely.

"Did you hear that?" she asked, sitting up abruptly.

"Hear what?"

She heard it again. Barking. It was faint due to the distance they were at from the front door, but she knew she heard it. Disregarding Thorfinn's protests, Hermione rushed down the stairs.

"Hermione, it's not Argos. It's just a random dog," Thorfinn called after her when the barking grew louder. "No one knows we're here and he couldn't come on his own."

She knew she was being reckless but she didn't really care. It had been a trying day. She needed something positive to hold on to. Even if the barking on the front step was just a figment of her imagination or another dog lost in the enchantments surrounding the old Black home, she didn't care. She had to know.

Argos gave her a friendly bark and a wag of his tail when she opened the front door. Without waiting for an invitation, he let himself through. Hermione waited until the front door was shut and secured before throwing herself on her beloved dog. He preened under the attentions.

"What a good boy!" she exclaimed.

"Hermione?" Thorfinn called from the upper level.

"It's Argos!"

She led her dog up the once grand staircase towards the room she had been attempting to nap in. When they made it to the level Thorfinn was waiting for them at, she ignored the furrowed brow and suspicious eyes of the blonde wizard. She didn't know how Argos was able to find them and at the moment, she didn't really care.

"How did he find us?" Thorfinn asked when they settled back into Regulus' old bed with Argos standing guard at the foot.

"Saint Bernards are excellent trackers," she replied, not wanting to think too much on the logistics of the dog finding the hidden home.

"Princess, the cabin is hundreds of miles away. How could he have possibly tracked us here in that short of time?"

Hermione flipped over on her side to turn her back to Thorfinn. The wizard was in no rush to put an end to their discussion, but she didn't have the energy. Realizing after a short time that she wasn't going to budge, Thorfinn sighed and lay down beside her.

All three temporary residents of Grimmauld Place were woken some time later by a loud thump downstairs. Argos began to growl in a low, dangerous tone. Thorfinn placed a finger over his mouth to tell Hermione not to make a sound. They might have been left alone if their bodies didn't all start to prickle with the swooping of a familiar energy. She grabbed Thorfinn's arm. _Someone_ was downstairs.

Neither of them had removed their shoes when they lay down earlier. There wasn't anything they had in way of luggage or baggage, simply what they carried in their pockets. When they'd exited the cabin earlier that afternoon neither of them expected to need anything. At least it made preparing to run easier.

Thorfinn cracked the door to the bedroom open. Two distinct voices began to rise up the staircase. Whoever was down there didn't care whether or not they were discovered. He and Hermione had their wands out, ready to attack if necessary.

"I told you there was someone here," a masculine voice hissed. "You said it was a waste of time."

"We don't know _who_ is up there, Father," another male voice replied. "It could be anyone. It could be a vagrant. We don't know if it's Granger."

Hermione squeezed Thorfinn's elbow until she was certain there would be bruises left behind. If there had been question whether or not the new arrivals were unfriendly, all doubt was now removed.

"Macnair is obviously not the only one looking for you," Thorfinn whispered. "I think that's Nott and his son. You've made yourself some powerful enemies."

"Tell me something I don't already know."

"They know we are up here. We can't rely on surprising them."

"What should we do?"

It always seemed ironic to her the handful of times she'd been in a situation where she required assistance from a Death Eater. She'd spent her entire adult life and most of her childhood fighting against the followers of Lord Voldemort. To rely on their special brand of protection and fighting skills felt perverse. In the back of her mind she hoped Harry would understand.

"Stay behind me at all times, Hermione. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"If something happens to me, don't worry about me. Leave me. Fight like hell to get outside. Leave Argos. Apparate somewhere safe and send your otter to my sister."

Thorfinn placed his arm around her waist. His lips brushed against hers for the briefest of seconds. It didn't last long enough for her to even be offended or feel the need to push him away. As soon as they broke apart he was pushing her back behind his muscular frame.

The staircase was creaking. Thorfinn pulled the door open a few inches. The house was too dark to really see what was happening down below. When he pulled it open further, Argos slipped past him. Both he and Hermione tried to reach for the dog, but he was too fast. They could hear him growling and bouncing down the stairs. A shout and a misfired spell echoed in the narrow stairwell. Thorfinn kept Hermione pushed up against his back with his free hand. Part of her resented the implication that she couldn't take care of herself, but mostly she was thankful that the dangerous wizard was on her side.

"Get this fucking dog off of me, Theo!" Nott shouted. Argos had his teeth sunk into his wand arm preventing him from being able to safely shoot off any spells or curses. "Did you hear me? Get it off!"

Hermione and Thorfinn both sent off stunners at the same time into the direction of young Theo Nott. Neither was sure which one of them sent the one that actually hit its target. It didn't really matter. Theo collapsed to the stairs. Argos was still biting into Nott's arm. His wand had long since fallen out of his clutches. Hermione made certain to stomp on it to break it into two useless pieces on their way down the staircase. Thorfinn dragged her down the stairs past the elder wizard still struggling with the dog. He didn't stop pulling her arm until they were on the front steps.

Moments later Thorfinn had them standing in the darkened street in front of Hermione's childhood home. The sun had been down for hours and a quick glance at her watch showed the time to be just a little after half past eight. She was surprised by the location and said so.

"I've been to your house a few times, Princess," he explained. "Sent here to search for you. It was the first place that popped into my head just now. Couldn't very well take you to _my_ childhood home. My elderly uncle is still waiting to die in it."

Her heart clenched when she got her first good look at her home. She hadn't been back since the day she _obliviated_ her parents the summer before what should have been her seventh year. It felt surreal to be back. Many times during the nine months she was on the run she thought about popping in for even just a few minutes, but was afraid. Obviously her fears were legitimate if Thorfinn had been sent there multiple times to check it out.

She rushed towards the front gate without a second thought. Only Thorfinn's strong arm reaching out for her kept her from walking straight onto the property.

"You don't feel them?" he asked.

At his question she became aware of the subtle hint of powerful magic hanging in the air. In her haste to be somewhere familiar she didn't stop to feel the wards that had been placed around her family's property. She could only imagine who might have erected them without her knowledge. Already two powerful Death Eaters had been able to track her location in one single day. It could've been either one of them. Maybe even someone else entirely. Thorfinn wasted no time in beginning the dismantling of the complex wards. As he worked she could gradually feel each of the protections and enchantments fall. Finally, when the last of the wards fell, Thorfinn took her hand in his to lead her to the front door. He cast more diagnostic spells before pushing the heavy door open.

"What are we going to do about Argos?" she asked the moment the door shut them inside their temporary haven. "Nott could've killed him by now."

"Argos will be fine."

Thorfinn narrowed his eyes in her direction. The intense expression on his face made Hermione actually shiver with dread. She didn't like the way he was looking at her. She actually felt afraid.

"I'm more concerned about how Walden Macnair and Theodore Nott were both able to track you to what we believed were safe places," he said.

She didn't have an answer for him. It was just as bizarre to her as it was to him. Thorfinn raised his wand to point in her direction. Despite knowing that he wouldn't hurt her, she flinched. It made her nervous to be at the end of his wand yet again in her life.

"Fuck!"

"What? What's wrong, Thorfinn?"

"There's a powerful tracking charm on you, Princess."

He continued to mutter incantations under his breath. Nothing he did improved the scowl on his countenance. Whatever his research was revealing, it wasn't positive.

"I don't recognize the magical signature," he continued. "This is bad, Hermione. This is really bad. Only a really powerful wizard could've placed it on you."

"Well take it off!" she almost shouted, forgetting for a moment that they were trying to remain hidden in an abandoned house.

"I would if I could," he responded through angry, clenched teeth. "I don't know who put it on you. Only the person who cast it can remove it."

They stood in the middle of her darkened living room trying to ignore the fear that was lumping up in their bellies. If they couldn't remove the tracking spell, there was simply no way that they could hope to get away from whatever wizard was trying to find her. Anywhere they went would be a waste of time.

"Maybe Antonin was the one who placed it," she suggested.

"If that were the case then why is he in trouble? Macnair said that he's gotten into trouble because he can't find you. He could've just used his spell to find you."

She hated when he was logical. Of course it wasn't Antonin. He would've found Alecto's corpse and immediately tracked her to Thorfinn's cabin. There would have been no need to tell the Dark Lord about her disappearance at all.

"We just have to remain vigilant," Thorfinn continued. "Until we know who…"

His words were cut off by a bark at the front door. Hermione rushed to the door without thinking. When her hand reached for the knob, Thorfinn was behind her to keep the door closed.

"How does Argos keep finding his way back to you?" he asked softly.

He allowed her to open the door up just enough to let the dog inside. A joyful reunion took place between Hermione and the canine. She kneeled on the hardwood floor to wrap her arms around his neck. Argos was excited to be back with his mistress.

After a short reunion, Thorfinn carefully pulled Hermione up by her arm. He led her a few feet away from the dog to whisper in her ear.

"There is no way, no _way_ that a normal dog could have figured out where you were and made it here in such a short time," he whispered.

"I don't think I know what you are implying."

"Think about it, Hermione. Even if he ran as fast as he could and knew _exactly_ where he was going, he couldn't have made it here so fast."

Argos had come into her life when she was desperate for a friend, desperate for someone to love. He followed her around the manor and had saved her life on more than one occasion. She'd always known there was something odd about the animal, but never wanted to dwell on it. More than once she'd wondered if he was something more than just a regular dog. There were so many strange occurrences. Too many to ignore.

"Animagus," she whispered.

"You know, Princess, I've always thought there was something strange about him."

Thorfinn turned away from her to get a better look at the dog. Argos sat on his back legs in the middle of the room watching them as if he had no care in the world. Hermione subconsciously closed the small area between her and the wizard. They removed their wands from their pockets at the same time.

"Do you know the incantation?" Hermione asked, trying to keep her lips from moving as much as possible.

"Of course."

At the same moment bright blue light shot out of the ends of their wands. Argos' eyes widened, but he didn't whine or try to run even when his entire body was engulfed in the light. The strength of their combined spells made staring directly at the dog unbearable for their eyes. They turned their heads away for the short seconds it took for the spell to reveal Argos' secret.

"Oh my god," Hermione whispered.

Where there had once been a friendly, fiercely loyal and protective Saint Bernard, there sat a disheveled and slightly overweight Rodolphus Lestrange.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty Eight

 _"Stupefy!"_

Antonin didn't even waste a moment to attempt to figure out what he was seeing before he sent a stunner in Rodolphus' direction. He had a clear shot of the animagus through a crack in the door. The bright light surrounding the dog faded, leaving the wizard sitting on the floor visible.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The last time he'd actually seen Rodolphus Lestrange was the night that he disappeared. Snape knew the time and date that Potter was going to be moved from his aunt's house to the safety and protection of the Weasley home. Everyone gathered at Malfoy Manor to prepare for their aerial assault. He remembered Rodolphus acting a bit strange, but that wasn't an unusual behavior for the wizard since they were broken out of prison the second time. He was a man terrified of his own wife. Not that Antonin could blame him. He'd rather swallow fiendfyre than be in the same bed as that harridan. Lestrange had always been a quiet man and often overlooked in favor of his overpowering wife. It took them several days to even realize that Rodolphus was missing. By that time, the Dark Lord could no longer sense the man through his Dark Mark and declared him dead.

Seconds after he stunned the wizard, curses came flying into the corridor to narrowly miss Antonin. Thorfinn and Hermione both were assaulting his position with innocuous and dangerous curses alike. He hadn't survived forty-eight years without being capable of producing a powerful shield. With his protections in place, Antonin blasted the door to the living room off of its hinges. Stepping in to the room, he was able to deflect multiple curses shot in his direction. He felt a surge of rage well up inside his gut when he saw Thorfinn place a hand on _his_ witch. The younger wizard pushed the witch behind him in a gesture of protection that Antonin would've found himself grateful and appreciative for if it had come from any other wizard alive.

He had to break his shield for a split second to disarm Thorfinn. As his wand flew through the air into Antonin's waiting hand, Thorfinn was thrown sideways into a wall, almost kicking Hermione in the process. The fierce lioness was determined to avenge her protector. She sent a rather nasty curse towards Antonin that he was only just barely able to avoid. He lazily disarmed the furious witch with another flick of his wand.

When Antonin held three wands in his hands and all of the curses ceased, Hermione was finally able to identify their attacker. Her whiskey colored eyes widened in amazement the moment Antonin stepped further into the room. A wash of moonlight illuminated his distinctive features. She waited for what felt like an eternity before she rushed across the room to throw her arms around the man.

He'd almost forgotten how breathless he felt with her lips against his. Too much time had passed since the last time the woman was in his arms. Why was he serving his master again if he had to leave this woman alone and in danger? He ignored the other two wizards in the room to accept the homecoming kiss he'd been longing for.

"We were told you were in trouble with the Dark Lord," Hermione said the moment their lips broke apart.

Antonin sighed. He wasn't ready to return to reality just yet.

"I am," he replied. "What are you doing here with him?"

He nodded his head in Thorfinn's direction. The blonde was back on his feet and a mask of pure fury covered his features. Antonin wasn't intimidated. He knew that on his worst day he could take Thorfinn down if necessary.

"I was attacked by Alecto Carrow," Hermione explained.

Antonin took his eyes off of Thorfinn to stare back down at his witch.

"I know," he said, dropping a soft kiss to her forehead. "When I came home to find her body and you gone, I wasn't sure what to do."

"I'm so sorry, Antonin. Argos killed Alecto. It was awful. Somehow I made it to Greg's house and was able to contact Thorfinn's sister Reina for help. She and Lucius took me somewhere to keep me safe, but I couldn't stay there for long. Reina took me to her father's old hunting cabin. Thorfinn has been living there since Azkaban. I was really hurt and weak. He took care of me but today Walden Macnair found us. We had to leave the cabin and then Theodore Nott found us so we came here. I almost tripped the wards before…"

Her frantic story spilled out of her mouth in seconds. Antonin could hardly understand what she was telling him. Obviously she had had a harrowing time since he was forced to leave her alone while in Russia. When the words threatened to never end, Antonin covered her mouth with his once more. It was a trick he'd learned early on in their acquaintance. Only a short kiss later and the verbal vomit ceased. Antonin left his hands on Hermione's shoulders before gently pushing her away a few inches.

"And what about him?" Antonin gestured towards the stunned Lestrange.

Hermione was at a loss to explain. Thorfinn stepped closer to the couple before speaking.

"That was a bit of a surprise," Thorfinn clarified. "When we returned to the cabin and found that Macnair was there, we had to leave in a hurry. He was threatening to take Hermione to the Dark Lord and I certainly can't be captured. The Dark Lord might be made aware of the fact that I'm still alive if I was forced to enter his office. The dog kept following us. Somehow he could find us no matter where we were."

"Yeah, we got a little suspicious," added Hermione.

Antonin pushed Hermione's wand back into her hand. Reluctantly, he returned Thorfinn's as well. He didn't exactly want the man to be armed in his presence, but it seemed only fair. With a quick spell in Lestrange's direction, the wizard was no longer stunned.

"Lestrange, what the _fuck_ is going on here?" Antonin demanded.

Rodolphus rose from the seated position he'd been in on the floor. He kept his eyes downcast, unable to meet anyone directly in the face. Antonin couldn't blame him for being the slightest bit embarrassed. Had the wizard just been discovered to have been living as a dog for years?

"I'm not sure where to begin," Rodolphus finally said after several awkward moments of complete silence in the modest Muggle living room. "Well, I guess I decided to train to become an animagus years ago. Years before I ever went to prison. Bella and I had been married, rather unhappily I might add, for several years before I started looking into the training. It had always fascinated me. I'm not sure that you all are aware, but I've always loved animals."

"Rabastan told me once," Hermione replied, with a warm smile. She, at least, was doing her best to encourage the wizard despite the bizarre circumstances.

Rodolphus returned her smile with a hesitant one of his own before continuing his explanation.

"A few years into our marriage Bella told me that there would never be any children. I hate to admit that I was a bit relieved. While I certainly would've loved and welcomed any children born of a different union, the thought of Bella actually bringing her own children into the world frightened the hell out of me. Made the act of conceiving damn near impossible, if you get what I mean."

A rather indelicate snort erupted out of Thorfinn's mouth. Antonin at least had the good sense and common courtesy to keep his own feelings on the subject quiet. Of course thinking about putting his todger anywhere near the man's wife made it want to shrivel up and hide inside his body. After a barely perceptible shudder, Antonin stilled his features and nodded in Rodolphus' direction to continue.

"Bella was growing ever more fanatic with her devotion to the Dark Lord. I was content to stay home and care for my animals. She still managed to drag me with her into her activities, of course, but I was never a true believer. I thought the Dark Lord had some interesting ideas and I'd been raised to believe that purebloods were better than everyone else, but I never imagined that he would ever gain enough followers or power to achieve what he wanted.

"My wife left me more and more alone at my family's manor. I didn't mind. There was plenty to keep my mind occupied. As long as I continued to allow the drafts out of my vault towards her cause, she mostly left me alone. During all of this I imagined that learning how to become an animagus would be a welcome distraction. That branch of magic has always fascinated me. I remember being quite impressed by Professor McGonagall's transformation into a cat when I was a young boy at Hogwarts."

"Rabastan said you were a rodent," said Hermione. "He told me one evening over dinner that you attempted to become an animagus but didn't care for your form."

His cheeks grew crimson, visible even in the darkened room. Rodolphus cleared his throat.

"Yes, well, I had already decided that if I were successful at completing the transformation, it would be a convenient way to disappear. These were dark days, Hermi, uhh, _Miss Granger_ …"

"You've been my dog for almost ten months, Rodolphus. You've slept in my bed and saved my life. You can call me Hermione."

He cleared his throat again. With a gentle nod in her direction, he continued.

"Bella was suspicious of all of my training. While she grew ever more unstable as she grew older, the Black blood, I'm afraid, she was by no means an unintelligent woman. After a few years of training and practicing, she took to berating me for not being a talented enough wizard to succeed. I'd already at that point been able to discover my true form and even completed a couple of successful transformations.

"I knew that she wouldn't let up, so I had to do something to throw her off the scent. One day about a year before the Dark Lord fell and before we were thrown into prison, I transfigured a book into a squirrel with a really remarkable tail. Transfiguration was always my greatest subject. Charms, especially memory modification charms, was my second best subject. I was able to show Bella the squirrel and modify her memory in such a way that she believed my true animagus form was the squirrel.

"She thought it was hilarious. Could hardly breathe from the laughter once I finished the charms. Started calling me 'Fuzzy' even in mixed company and began to encourage me to run away to live with the rest of the vermin. I swore to her and in the presence of my younger brother that I would never transform again. They never brought up the subject again except for a few times later to taunt me."

Rodolphus took a deep breath and a pause before he finished. This was obviously not going to be a story he could tell in just a few short minutes. Antonin lowered his exhausted frame onto one of the squashy couches near the window. Hermione sat down next to him and the other two wizards in the room found comfortable armchairs. He was more than pleased to feel Hermione push herself into his side and wrap a slim arm around his waist.

"Like I said earlier, I was initially a supporter of the Dark Lord's plans. In the beginning he seemed an almost reasonable man. You remember, Antonin."

He nodded once in agreement. Yes, once upon a time, Lord Voldemort had been a seemingly sane wizard intent on bestowing favors upon his loyal followers in recognition of their aid. Vadim Dolohov had even been persuaded to move his young wife to an entirely different country where she didn't even speak the language to follow the persuasive wizard. He'd made so many promises in those early years that it was no secret why so many were convinced. It wasn't until years later and especially after his defeat by the infant Harry Potter that the true insanity of the man began to make itself known. Now most of his followers served only out of a sense of fear. His truly fanatic followers were mostly dead.

"It didn't take long before my support wavered. As soon as he began to show how ruthless and terrifying he could be, I began to deeply regret my decision to join with my wife. What had started out as a harmless social club became something much different.

"When the Dark Lord fell, I regret that I was not able to prevent my wife from her plans to torture information out of the Longbottoms. That will always be one of my most fervent regrets. She was not an easy woman to say 'no' to. Bella dragged me with my willing brother and the even more willing Barty Crouch, Jr. to their home. My role in that debacle was nothing more than a glorified lookout, but every single day I regret that I wasn't able to find the necessary strength required to kill my own wife. Believe it or not, I've always been a bit squeamish when it comes to violence."

Antonin wasn't surprised by his admission in the slightest. Over the years he'd been witness to multiple occasions when Rodolphus was punished by the Dark Lord personally for failing to complete his required tasks in a manner that was violent or bloody enough. He'd never really been close to the man. His wife was the largest deterrent there was, but he knew enough about him and knew enough from what his younger brother always said to know that he wasn't a man who craved violence.

"I learned in Azkaban that it was still possible for me to transform, but I hated to do it. When I was the dog I felt different, the dementors didn't affect me as much. I deserved to be in prison. I _deserved_ to feel what they made me feel."

"That's how Sirius Black was able to keep his mind relatively intact," Hermione added.

All three wizards turned to stare in her direction with quizzical expressions on all of their faces. Antonin had never heard her mention the man in much detail before. He knew that she'd been around him as Potter's godfather, but she certainly never mentioned him being an animagus. There had been rumors amongst the Death Eaters, of course. Nothing factual however.

"He was a dog too," she explained. "That's how he was able to escape from Azkaban. He used to slip into his dog form to escape from the dementors. When he realized that they didn't pay him any attention in that form, he slipped through the bars of his cell to escape."

"I never knew that," replied Rodolphus. "Interesting. I do remember having a conversation with young Black at a family gathering before he ran away from his parents sometime when he was a teenager about animagi. Very diverting conversation, indeed."

"He was probably already working on his form at that time. Maybe even succeeded by then."

"Very impressive to do so so young. What kind of dog was he?" Rodolphus asked. "Was he an imposing dog?"

Hermione stopped herself from snorting at the question. She caught Antonin's eye and smirked.

"Sirius wasn't nearly as adorable as a dog as you are, Rodolphus," she teased. "He was actually rather frightening. Looked very much like the Grim."

Rodolphus' cheeks blushed slightly once more. He seemed embarrassed for a few moments before he joined in the good natured chuckling.

"When we were broken out of prison the first time, I had a plan to disappear. It was almost an obsession of mine when I was in Azkaban. Used to imagine how I could figure out a way to fake my death and spend the rest of my life happily living in my canine form. I'm not sure that any of you realize just how freeing it can be to be a simple dog."

Antonin didn't even try to stop his own derisive snort. Yes, he'd imagined more than once how relaxing it might be to be a dog. Usually when he was returning home in the middle of the night exhausted and bleary-eyed to see a snoring Argos happily wasting his life in front of the fireplace. More than once he'd _accidentally_ kicked the dog softly on his way through the living room after a long night with the Dark Lord. He didn't appreciate the animal being so carefree in his presence.

"A short time after returning home to the manor, I was down in the closest village enjoying a quiet walk. It must have been fate because an elderly woman had been selling Saint Bernard puppies in a little shop. When I walked in, there was only one left. He was the runt of the litter and fairly small for his age. The Muggle was anxious to get rid of him. Said that no one else wanted him. I guess I could empathize.

"Argos was a sweet puppy. The moment I picked him up I knew I wanted him. I didn't care if he was too little or if his legs were too thin. The woman offered me a good price since he was the last. I carried him to an empty park and charmed his fur to look just like my animagus form. Right down to the dark fur where my Mark is.

"When I brought him home, Bella was furious. She didn't appreciate that I'd run off without telling her where I was going. When she heard the little squeak and saw the movement in my coat pocket, she grew even angrier. She reached into my coat and pulled Argos out by his leg. Poor little mite. It broke in two different places when she pulled on him. She laughed when he started whimpering and dropped him on the floor. I tried to heal him, but she drew her wand on me and said she would rather kill her worthless husband than allow him to waste time on a meaningless animal. He suffered for hours before she stormed out of the house and I was able to heal his injuries."

Hermione rose from her place on the sofa. She crossed the few feet to stand in front of a visibly upset Rodolphus. With a quick wave of her wand, she conjured a fresh handkerchief for the emotional man. He took it gratefully. Antonin didn't like seeing his witch place a comforting hand on the man's shoulder. A quick glance in Thorfinn's direction showed that the other wizard didn't care for the gesture either. After a few seconds, he rose to coax her back to the sofa.

"I knew I would have to wait until Argos was full grown before I could expect to 'disappear'. The waiting was interminable and then there was the debacle at the Department of Mysteries. I honestly expected I would spend the rest of my miserable existence in Azkaban after we failed. When we were able to escape a second time, I didn't want to take any more chances. I knew I no longer wanted to serve the Dark Lord. Argos by that time was fully grown. It was amusing to transform with him to see how identical we were. That never grew old.

"On the night Potter was moved from his family's home, I decided that would be the night I would disappear. It wasn't hard. Bella's niece sent several curses in my direction. I just made sure that one of the less harmful ones hit their mark. I pretended to fall off of my broom. In the chaos of the moment no one noticed me Disapparate in mid-air. I was home before anyone even knew I was missing."

"What happened to the real Argos?" Hermione asked.

Rodolphus smiled in her direction. Sadness was etched across his entire face.

"I left him with a little Muggle boy in the village. Argos and I liked going to the nearby park to roam around. There was a little boy, probably six or seven, who used to get excited when he would see Argos. After I assured the boy's mother that no harm would come to her child, they used to run through the park playing together. I found out where the little boy lived the day after I 'disappeared'. Placed the tiniest compulsion spell on his mother to allow Argos to stay. I still like to check in on them to make sure he's happy. It's obvious that the pup is well loved and cared for. He's very happy. Not sure that I could've found him a better home."

He wiped at his face again with Hermione's handkerchief. Antonin saw tears streaming out of Hermione's eyes. While he tried to keep his eye roll inconspicuous, he handed his own handkerchief to his witch. She wiped the tears away before granting him a large, watery smile. The tale of Argos wasn't exactly one that was likely to get his own waterworks going. Antonin liked dogs, but obviously not nearly as much as Rodolphus and Hermione. A glance at Thorfinn's incredulous expression almost caused the two younger wizards to burst into laughter despite the somber mood. Antonin thought it best to keep his eyes diverted from the blonde.

"Only Rosie and the other house elves knew who I really was," Rodolphus explained. "She made sure that Rabastan never threw me out or hurt me. I'm sure you remember what a fierce, little thing she is. Rosie's been telling us what to do since we were children. Neither one of us would _dream_ of disobeying her."

"I imagine not," agreed Hermione, a smile spreading across her face. "I certainly didn't know how to say 'no' to her and she even knew how to bully Antonin around."

The dark haired wizard couldn't stop himself from glaring down at his witch at her proclamation. Yes, he did have some power struggles with the bossy, little elf, but he wouldn't say that she _bullied_ him. The thought was simply ridiculous. He was a powerfully gifted wizard. If he did as Rosie asked it was only because he was in agreement that that was the right course of action. He could've taken the house-elf at any time if it was necessary. His expression didn't soften when Hermione laughed in his face. _I'll make her regret her cheekiness later_ , he thought.

"Life was pretty dull in the manor for me until Hermione moved in," admitted Rodolphus. He turned all of his attention to the woman. "You were the only one who paid me any attention. I think my canine side fell in love with you just a little bit. No one else let me get up in the bed when Antonin wasn't around."

Hermione's earlier laughter grew a bit uncomfortable after being ratted out by her furry companion. Antonin glared once more. He wasn't stupid. He knew the dog was allowed in the bed when he was gone. How else could one explain the massive amounts of dog hair and drool that he frequently found on his pillow? It was now an ingrained habit of his to _scourgify_ his pillow before he ever laid his head on it. One experience of laying his freshly washed cheek down in a puddle of drool was all it took to learn that lesson.

"I felt an obligation to keep you safe, Hermione," Rodolphus said, rising from his chair to stand in front of the sofa. "I know what kind of man my younger brother is, no matter how much it pains me. He's never been a good man and he often can't think past what's happening inside his own trousers. I did what I could to keep him away from you when you were alone. Your concerns about him coming into your room when Antonin was gone were not unfounded. I kept him out when I could and there were several times that I know he either stupefied me or simply silenced me.

"And I knew I had to keep you protected from the scum that he allowed in his house. I wouldn't want his friends around anyone I cared about. Took me some time to figure out I could trust that one with your safety."

He gestured over towards the chair Thorfinn was seated in.

"I was afraid at first he was just like the others. Didn't like the way he was always coming around you, but once I realized he was just as interested in keeping you away from those cretins as I was, he wasn't so bad."

"Gee, thanks, boy," Thorfinn sardonically replied.

Everyone else ignored his petulant response. Rodolphus leaned down to brush his hand against the scar on Hermione's arm that she usually worked hard to keep hidden. It was a source of shame that came directly from the man's wife.

"I wish I could've protected you from that too."

He removed his hand long before Antonin was going to force him. Rodolphus turned his back on his small audience to begin pacing in front of the cold, unlit fireplace. Several times he ran his hands through his graying hair in frustration and what seemed almost like anger.

"There was never any question about whether or not I would use deadly force against Alecto Carrow. The moment I realized she wasn't Gregory Goyle I wanted to tear her to pieces. It took all of my somewhat limited self-control in that moment to prevent myself from transforming to blast her to hell as a wizard. I was afraid that if I wasn't successful my secret would be out and I was also afraid of frightening you, Hermione."

"Thank you for protecting me," she whispered. "I know I told you several times as a dog, but I'm glad I can say it to your face now."

Rodolphus flashed a warm smile in her direction. Antonin was surprised to discover that despite the man's subterfuge, he was actually pleased that Hermione had another powerful wizard on her side. There was _almost_ a fatherly manner in the way Rodolphus Lestrange looked down at Hermione. If Antonin didn't know about all of the times the man snuck into the bathroom in dog form when Hermione was bathing or if he'd never looked up in the middle of a particularly _ardent_ moment alone with his witch to see two wide dark eyes staring back at him, he might've believed the man had nothing but paternal feelings for his witch. As it was, Lestrange gave off more a _creepy uncle_ vibe. It wasn't enough that he believed Hermione was in any danger around the man, however. Somehow he was secure in his instinct that the man was willing to die to keep her protected. He'd already proven himself willing to kill.

"Everything happened so quickly that day," he continued. "I was hardly aware of my feet leaving the ground before I could taste the bitch's hot blood in my mouth. When I was certain she was dead and I checked on you to see the extent of your injuries, I retrieved your wand and brought you the portkey. I was hoping you had enough energy to activate the portkey, but you kept blacking out."

Rodolphus turned his attention to Antonin.

"She was almost dead, Antonin. It was terrible. I had to do something quickly. She wouldn't have lasted much longer on her own. I transformed while she was still going in and out of consciousness. I was able to activate the portkey, pick her up in my arms and push the portkey into her hands. When we arrived at the Goyles' house, I laid her on the sofa and transformed again.

"I was honestly a little surprised to see Lucius Malfoy come into the house. Don't mistake me, I'm grateful he was able to get the bleeding on the back of your head under control and take care of some of the most serious wounds, but it was a surprise. I had no idea you trusted him so much."

Antonin was even more surprised by that turn of events. Everything he'd ever heard from Hermione about the elder Malfoy was distrust and even a bit of disgust. He shifted slightly in his seat to get a better view of the reddened cheeks of his witch.

"I wasn't expecting Lucius to come," she explained. "I sent a message to Reina, Thorfinn's younger sister. After hitting my head I wasn't exactly thinking clearly."

"Yes, well, I did not like the woman we stayed with first," Rodolphus replied.

"Who was it?" Antonin asked.

"Calliope Smith," Thorfinn answered for her. "No idea what her married name is. She can be a right bitch at times. Sometimes I'm almost embarrassed by my association with her during school."

Antonin's brow furrowed. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Thorfinn and Calliope used to shag all over the castle. I must've walked in on them a dozen times. Traumatic. Never quite recovered from it all."

Thorfinn snorted and Antonin shook his head. He really didn't enjoy hearing about the younger wizard's sexual exploits. It was crass and unnecessary.

"Yes, well, I didn't trust the woman at all. I heard her say some rather nasty things about you, Hermione, and didn't completely trust that she would leave you alone. I stayed by your side except for the few short trips I had to make outside."

"You should have just pissed all over her carpet," suggested Thorfinn.

"Oh, believe me, there were likely a few awkward conversations when her husband returned about what he found hidden in every pair of his shoes."

Realizing that Antonin was seated in a room where a grown man in his fifties was openly admitting to _relieving_ himself in a man's shoes while the younger occupants giggled was yet another experience he would have to describe in his life as being just a tad surreal. There were moments in his life that one simply couldn't make up. Feeling that he had to once again be the adult, Antonin interrupted their laughter to ask what happened after they left the unpopular woman's house.

"Hermione and I went to the old Rowle family hunting cabin next. We were both very surprised to find out that Thorfinn was still alive. At first I didn't think Thorfinn was a much better choice than the former Miss Smith. That's why I slept on the bed."

Antonin narrowed his eyes in confusion. Thorfinn cleared his throat before responding.

"Argos, I mean Rod, ugh, bloody hell, the _dog_ slept between us."

After the young wizard's hasty confession, Antonin sent an approving nod in Rodolphus' direction. While it was yet another surreal moment to realize that his witch was sleeping in the same bed as _two_ other men, at least Rodolphus was doing what he could to keep Rowle's grubby hands off of her.

"I was _furious_ when you two left me behind this afternoon," Rodolphus said.

Antonin was curious to know where they'd gone, but didn't think it was the appropriate time to ask. There was still a great deal left to the man's story. Best to let him finish before he started getting sidetracked with additional questions.

"I waited impatiently for you two to return. I wandered around the forest trying to figure out where you'd gone. After you'd been gone about an hour or so, I heard voices near the cabin. The closer I got I realized I was hearing both of you arguing with Walden Macnair, of all people. I heard you stun him, Hermione, and I was very proud."

Hermione blushed at the attention. Knowing that she was responsible for stunning a formidable opponent like Macnair made Antonin proud as well. He slipped his arm back around her and pulled her closer.

"I was running towards the cabin, but I think I scared you both when I stepped on a twig. You were both gone before I even made it around to the front of the cabin. I waited until Lucius and Reina showed up to deal with Walden before I left.

"I have to make a confession to you, Hermione, and I'm not sure you will like it. When we left the cottage after Alecto attacked you, I was concerned that we would get separated. I placed a strong tracking spell on you. It was what allowed me to track you both to London to the Blacks' old home."

Hermione gave Antonin a brief explanation of what happened when they were in the house. It made his stomach twist and clench to know how close Theodore Nott was to his witch. Once again he was grateful to Rodolphus' quick thinking and _damn it all_ , grateful that Thorfinn was there to help.

"I _obliviated_ Theodore and his son before I left," Rodolphus announced. "Neither one of them should remember even seeing either one of you there. Then I tracked you here and you all have now figured out my deepest secret."

A strained silence fell over the assembled group. No one was quite sure what to say in response to the fantastical story they'd just heard. It was at least two or three minutes before Thorfinn finally broke the silence.

"May I just be the first to say that this is a truly, _truly_ fucked up situation?" Thorfinn said. He turned towards Rodolphus. "I spooned you! In bed!"

His indignant response was exactly what was needed to break the uncomfortable tension. Antonin, Hermione and Rodolphus all burst out laughing at his expense in the same moment. After a few more sputters of fury, Thorfinn joined in. By the time the laughter subsided, more than one of them had been reduced to tears.

"Rodolphus, while I would certainly like to tell you that I have greatly appreciated your protection," began Hermione. "If you _ever_ walk in on me in the bathroom again, I will kill you."

"You are no longer allowed inside our bedroom," added Antonin.

"Oh, you have been a dirty old dog, haven't you, Roddy?" chortled Thorfinn. He shrugged his shoulders. "Can't really blame you, mate. I'm sure I'd do the same if I was a dog."

Their laughter resumed for a short few moments before Antonin advised them all that they would have to leave the house as soon as possible. They were not safe there and if there were other Death Eaters searching for Hermione, they could be discovered.

"I am not leaving Thorfinn and Rodolphus behind," Hermione announced. "I have an obligation to them both. They have both put their lives on the line to keep me protected."

Antonin sighed. He couldn't argue with the witch no matter how much he wanted to. If Rodolphus returned to his Argos state, he wouldn't have a problem with the man moving back into their cottage. Thorfinn was an entirely different story. While they certainly had the room now that the renovations were completed, he didn't want the wizard anywhere near his witch. They had a rather uncomfortable history together.

"All right," he whispered directly into Hermione's ear. "Take them home. I have to go to Hogwarts."

His response earned him wide, frightened eyes from his witch.

"I have to report back to the Dark Lord that I have found you," he explained.

Not caring that he had an audience, Antonin pulled Hermione into his arms to place the kiss on her that he wanted to give her the day he returned from Russia. A large part of him was rather annoyed that they weren't alone. He would've loved furthering their encounter. He knew for a fact there was a rather soft, lavender scented bed just up the stairs that he was fairly certain had never had a man in it before. What was it about this woman that could make him feel like a reckless, hormonal teenage wizard again?

"Please be careful," she begged when they broke the embrace.

"I promise, _daragaya_."

Antonin swept out of the house intent on his next destination. It was better to get a meeting with the Dark Lord over and done with as soon as possible. He walked out of the back door with Rodolphus' promises in his ear that they would re-ward the Granger house before they left. Moments later he was standing in front of the closed Hogwarts gates.

The Dark Mark on his arm allowed him to pass through the iron gates with no trouble. Yet another addition to the charms protecting the historical school since the end of the war. He met no one on his walk across the grounds and no one in the Entrance Hall. It was well after midnight. Most normal people were already in bed. A single Death Eater stood at the entrance to the staircase leading to the Headmaster's Office. The wizard, yet another one Antonin hadn't bothered to learn the name of, nodded in his direction before allowing him to ascend the staircase.

There had always been speculation on whether or not the Dark Lord required sleep. Certainly it seemed that he was always awake and prepared to meet with his followers. He remembered a whispered conversation with Lucius during the midst of the Dark Lord's stay in his manor that their master kept the strangest hours and the house elves never seemed to need to make his bed up.

"Good evening, Antonin," the Dark Lord called from his armchair near the fireplace. A large tome was spread open in front of him. "I was not expecting you to return quite so soon."

Antonin fell to his knees in front of his master. After kissing the hem of the wizard's robes, he was given permission to speak. Some days he really despised all of the boot licking required in his position.

"My Lord, I return with good news," he began, his stomach already clenching in anticipation of punishment.

"Has the Mudblood been located?"

"Yes, my Lord. She was hiding a Muggle hotel. Walden ran off in the middle of our search. I have not seen him since. When he left, I returned to my cottage and found a coded note from the witch telling me where she was."

"No harm has come to her then?"

"She was cursed by Alecto, my Lord, but appears to be better. Her injuries were not extensive."

The Dark Lord grasped Antonin's chin with his freezing, bony hand. He had no choice but to make eye contact with the being he'd sacrificed his life to serve. Shielding his mind was a skill he'd been taught at his father's knee. It was second nature and to his great credit the Dark Lord had never been able to tell that he was adept at keeping secrets. After a cursory examination of his false memories of finding Hermione's note and then her in a rundown Muggle motel, the Dark Lord actually seemed pleased.

"The Mudblood must remain protected, Antonin," he continued. "I have plans to use her in a way that will _break_ those who choose to rebel against the new order."

"Yes, my Lord."

Antonin struggled to keep his fear under control. The Dark Lord had never given him even a hint of what he wanted to use Hermione for. How could he use her to break the rebels? There were too many speculations running through his mind. None of them involved him living the rest of his extraordinarily long life in a cottage by the sea surrounded by curly haired children and grandchildren.

"You are dismissed, Antonin."

He rushed from the office as quickly as he could without seeming too anxious to be out of the Dark Lord's presence. Any meeting with his master that didn't involve him lying on the floor choking on his own vomit was a meeting to remember. He all but ran through the familiar stone corridors and across the grounds.

The cottage was almost completely dark when he arrived. A swift glance at the exterior showed all of the windows had been closed. No doubt Gregory had been able to complete his malodorous task with little difficulty. Antonin pushed open the door to find a sleeping Saint Bernard curled up in front of a low burning fire. He was pleased to find that no traces of the mess he'd stumbled into earlier remained.

He crossed the living room towards the bedroom. The door to their bedroom was already closed. Hermione was likely in bed or enjoying one of her long bubble baths. He was anxious to join her regardless of what she was doing. When he reached for the doorknob a figure in the corner of his eyes caused him to jump and almost reach for his wand. Thorfinn was seated at the tiny kitchen table drinking from Hermione's favorite teacup that looked absolutely ridiculous in his oversized hands.

"The meeting with the Dark Lord was successful then," Thorfinn asked, lifting his blue eyes to meet Antonin's brown.

"It was."

Antonin released his hold on the doorknob to move further into the interior of the kitchen. He leaned up against one of the counters to face Thorfinn.

"Thank you for allowing me to come to your home, Antonin," Thorfinn said. "I know that wasn't an easy decision for you to make."

"No, it wasn't," he admitted.

"Yes, well, regardless, this is only temporary. Tomorrow morning I will talk to my sister and see if I can stay with her for a little while."

Both men stared at each other for longer than was entirely comfortable. There was a great deal that needed to be said, but neither of them knew how to begin. To Antonin's surprise and amusement, it seemed that Thorfinn was the one that had the courage to speak up.

"I know she wants you," he admitted. Antonin didn't even need him to elaborate his comment. It was clear enough. "I know she wants you, not me and I can live with that, but just so you know, old man, the day you break her heart I will be there to pick up the pieces."

Antonin nodded in his direction. He could respect the man for his bluntness. Of course it was all a moot point. He had no intention of ever breaking Hermione's heart. As long as he was still breathing, he had every intention of being with the woman.

"There's something you should know that I'm certain Hermione won't tell you."

Thorfinn's words hung in the small kitchen. Antonin's overactive imagination began to think of a million different scenarios of something terrible that could've happened while they were apart. Did something happen when she was alone with Thorfinn in his cabin? He took a deep breath before he trusted himself to speak.

"What is she keeping from me?" he asked.

"Hermione was rejected by the rebels."

He hadn't even considered that a possibility when he was worrying himself sick with potential secrets. Sensing the older wizard's confusion, Thorfinn rushed to explain himself in more detail.

"She wanted to help the Resistance in some way. A few days ago she and I met with Shacklebolt and one of the Weasleys in London. The same one that tried to kill you, I'm sure. Hermione told them that she wanted to help them in some way."

Antonin clenched and unclenched his fists. He could feel rage at her stubborn, misplaced Gryffindor sense of duty and bravery. What was she thinking?

"They were skeptical, as you can imagine. Didn't want to give her a straight answer. Definitely didn't like the fact that I was there with her. They asked her to give them some time to meet with the other leaders to discuss her request. Just after noon today, or yesterday, I guess, her mate Neville asked her to meet them in Hogsmeade _alone_. I wouldn't let her go alone. There were four of them, only one of them was even decent to her. I wanted to hex them all, but Shacklebolt was the worst.

"They told her that as long as she was associated in any way with you, they wanted nothing to do with her. Said that she couldn't be trusted and they wouldn't allow her to hurt their families."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, my thoughts exactly. Princess isn't going to tell you that. I think you and I both know her well enough to know that she doesn't want you to know."

He wasn't surprised that the rebels would be skeptical of her involvement with him, but to outright reject her _was_ surprising. These were the men who were so desperate for information on her whereabouts that they almost succeeded in killing him. Were the rebels truly that fickle in their affections?

"Thanks for telling me."

Thorfinn nodded in response before turning his attention back to his tea. Antonin sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He carefully pushed open the door to his bedroom. Hermione was already curled up in bed fast sleep. Her adorable, little snores usually brought a smile to his face. Antonin stripped his clothes off on the way to the shower he'd been dreaming about for weeks.

Hermione was awake when his drained body finally slipped beneath the covers of their comfortable bed. She snuggled into his side without invitation. She never really needed one.

"I missed you," she said as she placed a soft kiss on his bare chest.

Antonin kissed the top of her curly head in response.

"I had a much more enjoyable return planned, but I'm simply too exhausted to see it through," he declared.

He fell asleep only moments later with his witch's quiet giggles ringing in his ears.

* * *

 _Author's Note: I_ _ **hate**_ _taking this long between updates, but this week pesky real life kind of got in the way of my writing. Thanks for your patience! At least I was able to spend a little bit of time getting the next three chapters outlined while sitting in the closest laundromat thirty miles away. :( My washer decided to die at the most inconvenient time. And then my Thorfinn (who is sadly a farmer and not a wizard) needed my help on the farm most of yesterday. I was covered in mud and whining that I would rather be at home writing. Ugh, at least I'm prepared to go right on to the next chapter with my outline. Always makes writing easier._

 _Thanks again for all of the wonderful reviews! You all truly inspire me to keep writing!_


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty Nine

Waking up to the sounds of waves crashing against the shore and seagulls squawking in the distance always brought a smile to Hermione's face. Add in the crisp smell of salt water blowing through the open window on the breeze and she was content. Feeling the warm bare chest of her dark and broody wizard pressed against her back made her feel positively euphoric. She could close her eyes and _almost_ forget the previous three weeks. Feeling Antonin's steady breath on the back of her neck tickling her hair made everything she experienced feel just like a bad dream she was finally waking up from.

She could forget almost dying at the hands of a pissed off Alecto Carrow and push down any lingering resentment towards her former friends and allies who no longer trusted her around their families. Thorfinn's heart wrenching expression when he told her he loved her and she told him he terrified her could almost have been a memory from someone else's life.

She felt safe and protected wrapped up in the arms that had proven willing to kill on her behalf more than once. It was more than a little strange thinking how much her life had changed in the almost year she'd spent sharing a bed with the fearsome Death Eater. At times she couldn't remember what life was like without the man who once haunted her nightmares lying next to her. He made the past too easy to forget with his silent promises of the future. Once he desired to end her existence. Now it seemed he longed to fill it with toe-curling memories and assurances of a brighter life together than apart.

The exact moment the usually quiet man wormed his way into her heart could never be certain. It had been gradual, never rushed. Hermione pushed the reminder of the conversation she had with Thorfinn about whether or not her feelings for Antonin were true or a side effect from an unusual case of Stockholm Syndrome aside. Surely she understood her own feelings better than anyone else. Their story was not traditional. She certainly couldn't have imagined one day being positive that she actually loved Antonin Dolohov when she was lying in the infirmary recovering from his curse or modifying his memories while he lay unconscious on the sticky floor of the tacky Muggle café.

All Hermione knew for certain was that she would rather wake up each morning safely cocooned in the confines of his rather impressive arms than just about anywhere else her imaginative mind could construct.

"I missed waking up with you," she whispered to the room as soon as his soft snores ended.

She felt his arms tighten around her frame slightly before he placed a kiss on the top of her mess of morning curls. Antonin tried to stifle a yawn mid-kiss that only made her smile widen. If anyone else knew how delectably adorable the wizard could be first thing in the morning there would be a lot fewer people in the world who feared the man. _Best keep this my own little secret to not bruise his fragile ego_ , she thought to herself with another bright smile.

Carefully, Hermione turned her body within the circle of Antonin's arms to face the still sleepy wizard. His deep brown eyes remained closed but a hint of a smile ghosted his full lips when she snuggled into his chest.

"I hated every minute you were gone," she said softly.

Antonin pulled her body closer to his at the confession. She laid her head in the safe spot just below his chin. Her hair must have been tickling his sensitive face, but he didn't complain. He placed several gentle kisses on the top of her head before finally opening his mouth to speak.

"I missed you too. I was miserable without your ice cold feet finding their way up my pajamas each night."

Hermione snorted. He still hissed and jumped every time her feet sought out an extra bit of warmth. The curses he practically shouted each time only seemed to encourage the cheeky witch into repeating her actions any time she could. He never failed to make her laugh.

"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry," she teased in a sickly sweet, insincere tone. "That must have been awful for you."

"It was," he agreed, lifting her chin up with his free hand to cover her lips with his. "I've grown used to being annoyed every time I try to sleep. I wasn't sure what to do with myself."

"I wish you didn't have to leave again."

Antonin released a heavy sign and leaned his head back onto his pillow. Neither of them really wanted to address the issue of his frequent summons away from the safety of their refuge, but Hermione couldn't stop the words from spilling out. They both knew that it would only be a matter of time before he was called away again. Next time he might not come home. As long as he was subject to the whims of a mad man, they weren't safe. They could never truly plan a future together because at that moment in time the future didn't exist. Only the present.

"I am very sorry I wasn't here to protect you from Alecto," he whispered after several silent, uneasy minutes.

"I wasn't looking for an apology, Antonin," she replied. "It's not your fault."

As the last few words dripped off her tongue, Antonin sat up straight in bed, knocking his witch off to the side. Hermione pushed herself up to a seated position to get a better look at the fire raging through her wizard's eyes. He was angrier than she had seen him in a long time. She could practically feel the static of his raw magic radiating out from his tensed body.

"Not my fault?" he asked, bitterness and pain falling off his tongue. "It's not my fault that you weren't even safe in our home?"

"Antonin…"

"It's not my fault that I left you vulnerable and alone, a prime target for a psychotic bitch that hated me and wanted to make me suffer? It's not my fault that you almost _died_?"

The atmosphere in their bedroom was heavy. Hermione knew he would never hurt her intentionally, but she also knew the beginnings of an uncontrolled magical outburst when she saw one too. Antonin ran his hands through his hair with such force that she was certain he was ripping out clumps by the roots.

"I was thousands of miles away when you were lying in our home bleeding to death, Hermione! I brought you to this cottage because it was protected and far away from our enemies. Even that wasn't enough!"

Crackling could be felt in the air from the man's rage. Hermione's hair was standing up on its own. If she didn't know this wizard, she would've been terrified to be alone with him in that moment. All of his considerable anger was being turned around and directed inwards. A powerful wizard like Antonin could bring about his own massive heart attack or a stroke if he wasn't careful. She risked being shocked by the waves coming off his skin to place a gentle hand on his arm. Even his raw magic didn't hurt her, but she did feel a curious tingling up and down the scar he'd given her years earlier at the contact. It was imperative that she find a way to calm him down immediately.

"I wasn't alone, Antonin," she reminded him. "You left me here with Argos. I wasn't unprotected. He saved my life."

Her words hit their mark, _sort of_. His flushed cheeks lost some of their color as he began laughing a harsh laughter. While his rage was somewhat abated, she wasn't naïve enough to believe this outburst was over.

"Yes, I left you alone with a _fucking_ dog! Good on me! You do realize, of course, that if he was an _actual_ dog I would've come home the other day to find both Alecto and _you_ dead in the living room?"

His brown eyes shined with unshed tears. He was clenching and unclenching his fists. His arms were trembling. He was breathing erratically, obviously trying to take a deep breath and failing.

Hermione ripped the bedcovers off of him in one swift movement. She straddled his hips and gripped his cheeks in either hand. Her nose brushed against his as she forced him to meet her eyes. It was a struggle at first. As soon as he realized she wasn't going to leave him alone until they made eye contact, he allowed her to stare into the deep brown pools that always made her shiver when she felt them rake her body.

"I. Am. All. Right. Antonin."

She punctuated each word individually to make certain her point was made. His fears were genuine. She would never tell him he had no right to fear what he did, but in this moment, they were unnecessary. Thinking about the 'what ifs' was counterproductive. They could spend the rest of their lives wallowing in their mistakes and worries about what could have happened if they hadn't been lucky.

They stared at each other for a long time without speaking. Gradually she could feel his trembling lessen. His breathing deepened and slowed. When he ceased the clenching and unclenching of his fists to place his hands on her lower back, Hermione exhaled deeply. She hadn't realized she was holding her breath. He closed his eyes causing the tears he wouldn't cry to slip beneath his eyelids. Hermione used her thumbs to wipe them away just as he had done for her countless times before. His arms enveloped her, pulling her head down to his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his back holding to him with all of her strength.

"You have completely bewitched me, woman," he whispered into her hair much later. His voice was hoarse, but steady. "I fear for you more than I ever feared for myself."

She tightened her grip on him. He tightened his grip on her. They stayed in that same position until they were both calm and breathing normally. Hermione could feel his pulse slow. Antonin was finally the one to shift so he was lying back on his pillow with his witch half-lying on top of his chest. Neither of them was sure what to say next. It had already been an intense morning.

"So Argos is actually a wizard," Hermione said, desperate for something to fill in the uncomfortable silence. "That's pretty weird."

Antonin snorted causing her to start giggling. In only a few moments they were both laughing hard enough that they were once again struggling to breathe. It was the perfect statement to break the tension.

"Are you not angry that he's been deceiving us all along?" she asked when they were able to speak once more.

"Honestly, I'm still trying to wrap my head around it all. I might still be in shock."

She could certainly empathize. The day before had been one extreme moment after another. It was hard to believe that twenty four hours earlier she woke up in Thorfinn's bed and her world turned completely upside down. She no longer had allies in the Resistance. People she had loved and respected for years had physically turned their backs on her. She somehow managed to elude both Walden Macnair and Theodore Nott. All of that paled in comparison to finding out that her dog was actually Bellatrix Lestrange's supposedly dead husband. It was enough to make anyone's brain hurt.

"It's certainly a weird situation," Antonin continued. "But honestly, I can't exactly blame the man for going to such extreme lengths to get away from his wife."

"Neither can I," agreed Hermione.

"Personally, if it were me, I think I would've just murdered the crazy cunt, but Roddy's never been one for violence. Too soft. Caused endless problems in the first war. It's amazing that he was able to kill Alecto in such a brutal fashion. Must really care about you, _daragaya_."

"What do we do now? With him?"

Antonin sighed. He hadn't really had a lot of time to think over this particular situation. Everything happened so quickly the night before.

"You realize that you owe him a life debt, right?" asked Antonin.

Hermione nodded. She'd felt a strange connection with the dog and then with the wizard after he was revealed that she hadn't really experienced before. It was almost an overwhelming urge to protect the man. Of course, that could've simply been explained away by her being a rash Gryffindor with a penchant for hopeless causes.

"We have to keep him protected," he continued. "For your sake as well as his. If something was to happen to him and you had the ability to protect him, the debt could cause some uncomfortable side effects that we want to avoid at all cost. Life debts are a serious form of magic."

"What can we do?"

"We can't turn him out. If Rabastan knew he was alive, he wouldn't hesitate to turn Rodolphus in to the Dark Lord."

"His own brother?"

The thought of betraying his sibling made Hermione angry. Harry wasn't even her brother by blood, but she certainly could never _imagine_ an instance where she would willingly give him up. Hadn't she proved that when she lied under torture for him? When she used her limited powers in the moments before they were captured by Snatchers to attempt to hide his true identity? Rabastan had always disgusted her and yet, this was so much worse than anything he'd done or imagined doing to her at the manor.

"The Lestrange brothers have never been close. Rabastan hates Rodolphus and Rodolphus has always just wanted to be left alone. Both of their lives could've been much different and much happier if they'd switched places in the birth order. If Rodolphus is proven to be alive, he's the heir again. Rabastan would absolutely turn in his brother if it meant he was going to lose his inheritance."

"That's barbaric. His own brother!"

"I agree. My little brother only lived to be two years old, but I was always fiercely protective of him. Can't imagine that would've ever changed."

Hermione snuggled closer to the man. He could be such a mystery at times and then randomly announce parts about his past that she didn't expect. He'd never spoken about a little brother. She'd always assumed that he was an only child. Once again she made a mental note to remind herself to bring that up in conversation at some point in the future. She made lots of mental notes.

"He'll have to stay with us until we can think of something better," Antonin said. "But I won't deny that I like having someone else here when you're alone. He might not be a violent man, but Rodolphus is a powerful wizard with a desire to keep you protected."

"You actually trust him alone with me?" she teased, lightening the mood considerably. "He's a relatively handsome man under all of that facial hair, I assume, and you know he likes to watch me bathe."

Antonin laughed.

"Among other things, the damned dog, but yes, I trust him. More than that, I trust _you_."

To prove the value of his words, he captured her lips in a gentle kiss. They broke apart after a few seconds. Hermione laid her head back on his shoulder. She never grew tired of simply sitting in his lap with his arms around her. It was comforting and familiar.

"Rodolphus can stay in the guest room after Thorfinn leaves," Antonin added. "Or hell, he can keep sleeping on the rug for all I care. It's our responsibility to make sure he has somewhere safe to hide. We owe him."

Hermione wasn't sure what to respond. Of course she wanted to do everything in her power to pay Rodolphus back for his sacrifice. She snuggled up even closer to Antonin's side. He continued running his hand through her curls. The act calmed him better than any words she could speak.

"How was Russia?" Hermione asked. She'd been wanting to ask him about his mission and why he'd been gone so long since the previous night, but the opportunity for discussion hadn't presented itself until then.

Antonin released a loud, dramatic sigh. She didn't really have to ask him after all. His nonverbal communication was working just fine.

"Bloody miserable," he answered. "It was cold. There was nothing to find. Every lead we had turned out to be another dead end. No one was cooperative. I hardly slept. Kept thinking about this witch back home and I couldn't concentrate on anything else."

"That sounds awful," she replied grinning.

"It was. Just awful, but I did manage to get thoroughly pissed on my birthday with Theo Nott."

Hermione sat up abruptly at his words.

"Your birthday? You didn't tell me your birthday was while you were gone."

"I honestly never thought about it. Never been much for celebrating the day."

"That's terrible. You should've told me."

He pulled her reddened cheeks close enough to kiss them both.

"Hermione, I spent fifteen birthdays locked up in Azkaban. This was by far not my worst."

"That's a horrible scale to judge your birthday on. 'Not as bad as being in Azkaban, so I'll consider it a success.'"

Antonin shrugged his shoulders. Obviously growing another year older wasn't a cause for celebration in his mind.

"How old are you now?" Hermione asked with a wink.

"Too damn old for you, _krasavitsa_."

"Oh, well, if you think you are too old," she said as she climbed over his legs to get off of the bed. "Then I guess I shouldn't give you a special birthday present."

One foot hit the bare floor before his large hands wrapped around her waist to drag her back on the bed. Antonin brought her back to her earlier position straddled across his hips.

"I like presents," he said, his voice a husky whisper.

Hermione met his eager lips in a searing, breathless kiss. Antonin's magic was still sparking all around them, causing every inch of her skin to tingle with the tiniest current. She knew that when someone was suffering from an almost spontaneous outburst of unintentional magic that they required an outlet as soon as possible to prevent even more dire consequences. Usually she relied on just going outside and blowing up innocent boulders or ugly weeds. Her inquisitive nature wondered if perhaps there was another outlet she had yet to consider trying.

Antonin wasted no time in removing the pajama top she had been wearing. The man had a fascination with her bare skin and took every opportunity he could to explore it in great detail. Hermione certainly never minded. She allowed him to break their kiss to run his lips and his talented tongue down the column of her neck to her collarbone. Every inch that his mouth explored increased the tingling from earlier tenfold. Her soft moans and quiet gasps only encouraged the man further. Before his mouth could latch on to the breasts he had yet to grow tired of touching and suckling, Hermione pushed him off of her.

His dark brown eyes were almost black with the intensity of his desire. If she could've seen her own eyes, Hermione was certain hers would look similar. Antonin protested being pushed away and tried to reassert his dominance to no avail. His witch simply pushed him until his back was up against the headboard. With an impish smirk that needed no explanation, Hermione slithered down his long legs, pulling his pajamas down at the same time.

Her wizard groaned the moment his engorged erection slipped between the young woman's lips. She always loved the power she felt when she sucked him deep into her mouth. To many, it was a dominant position with the giver at the mercy of the receiver, but Hermione knew better. She knew she held all of the power and it was intoxicating.

" _Fuck_ ," Antonin hissed.

He was back to clenching and unclenching his fists for an entirely different reason than earlier in the morning. Hermione could feel his entire body tense despite all she was trying to do to get him to relax. Long before she was ready to quit, Antonin ran a hand through her curls, carefully pulling her head up. Their darkened eyes met across the bed once more. If Hermione didn't know her wizard, she would've been frightened by the intensity she witnessed in his eyes. With what felt like a single motion, Antonin threw his witch onto her back and removed the rest of her clothing. Her legs were wrapped around his waist and he was sliding inside her taut body before she could even formulate a protest in her mind.

Not that she would dream of protesting of course. She wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. Their early morning sessions rarely lasted long and with the three week absence hanging between them, they made every second count. Antonin knew how to make her body sing.

"I want to feel you come apart around me."

As he often did when they were in the middle of a passionate encounter, Antonin switched languages. Some things were easier to say in the heat of the moment, especially when the woman had no idea what he was saying. She could've listened to him read a shopping list for the market in Russian and it would've had the same effect.

"Don't you fucking stop, Antonin," she panted. "Don't you _fucking_ stop!"

He didn't. She complied with _his_ request only short moments later. Her high, keening wail and the gasping of his name combined with the spasms of her internal muscles squeezed his own completion out of him at the same time. He collapsed on top of her, pinning her to the bed as they both struggled to catch their breath. Hermione ran her hands through his hair and peppered his flushed face with soft kisses. Antonin slipped out of her body, wrapped his arms around her and rolled them so she was lying on top of his still heaving chest.

"Did you like your birthday present?" Hermione asked with a tone of mock innocence.

His warm laughter brought a smile to her face. She would never grow tired of hearing that sound.

"Very much."

"Good." Hermione leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "You are impossible to shop for."

He laughed again and pulled her even closer.

"Did you know you missed my birthday too?" she asked.

"No, I didn't."

"It was two weeks ago. I spent it being force fed potions in a smelly hunting cabin, but at least I wasn't alone. For my nineteenth birthday I was completely alone in a tent that smelled like cats."

Antonin dropped another kiss on the top of her head. She wasn't trying to bring down the mood; the words simply slipped out before she could stop them. Hermione sat up gesturing to Antonin to remain lying down. It was past time for her to get up and face the day.

"Well, I certainly owe _you_ a birthday present," he said with a wink. "I have some ideas already."

"I will take you up on that _later_ ," she responded. "You, however, are going to stay in bed all day."

Antonin smirked and reached for her again. She was practiced in batting his hands away.

"No, you will stay in bed all day _alone_ , sleeping."

His smirk disappeared and he began to resemble a petulant child more than the old man he claimed earlier to be. Obviously her pronouncement was not a welcome one.

"No arguments, Antonin. You are exhausted. I want you to spend all day catching up on your sleep."

She ignored his continued groans to finish climbing out of their massive, comfortable bed. It was the hardest part of her day. Their bed was made for relaxing and she _hated_ getting out of it. Throw in a gorgeous, willing wizard and it was damn near impossible. Hermione wrapped her frame in Antonin's comfortable bathrobe. It smelled of him even after he'd been gone for weeks.

"Stay there," she ordered with a smile. He was adorable when he pouted. "I will be right back."

A grin was still present on her face when she closed the bedroom door behind her. There were certainly worse ways to wake up in the morning. As soon as she turned towards the kitchen she was met by two sets of familiar eyes. Immediately her cheeks flushed red. Thorfinn was seated at the small kitchen table finishing his breakfast and reading the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. Argos, err, Rodolphus was sitting on his back legs while he hovered over the food bowl that Thorfinn likely filled.

"Sleep well, Princess?" Thorfinn asked, looking over the top of the newspaper. "I would say 'Good morning', but from the sounds coming out of your bedroom, that's not necessary."

She could feel her cheeks flush. They were used to living alone and a silencing charm never even occurred to her that morning. Her houseguests were the last thing on her mind.

"Shut up, Thorfinn."

Hermione crossed to the cabinet where she and Antonin kept their already brewed potions. If she was wanting Antonin to stay in bed all day to catch up on his sleep, she knew she was going to have to _encourage_ him to take a Dreamless Sleep potion. There would be too much temptation for him to get out of bed otherwise.

"Why is Rodolphus still in his dog form?" she asked, grasping at the first thought she had to steer their conversation away from what she had been doing in the privacy of her own bedroom with her wizard.

"His Mark," Thorfinn replied. "We were talking about that this morning before our conversation was interrupted by your delicious squeals."

Hermione left the door to the cabinet open longer than necessary to hide her face from Thorfinn's gaze. Their relationship had shifted irrevocably the morning he admitted to being in love with her. She knew that there would never come a time when they could forget the conversation they had in his hunting cabin. If she stared in a mirror at that moment she knew she would see bright red cheeks. He seemed to love making her feel uncomfortable.

"What does his Mark have to do with his transformation?" She chose to ignore his previous comment. It was easier that way.

"The Dark Lord tracks us through our Dark Marks," Thorfinn explained. "As long as he is in his animagus form, the Mark doesn't affect him. He said that he only feels a slight tingle when the Mark is active. I'm not sure how it all works, but he can't be traced as a dog. I remember the Dark Lord announcing that he could no longer sense him at a meeting soon after he disappeared. The crazy bitch he married was overjoyed."

A deep, frustrated growl came out of Argos' mouth. Hermione reached across the kitchen to rub his fluffy head. The animagus calmed down almost immediately under her ministrations. She'd learned the exact way to pet him to calm him over the past several months. It would've been just a touch strange to think about if she chose to remember that he was actually a wizard.

"My sister and Lucius figured out a way to block the Mark. Lucius was apparently researching how to do so for years before the Dark Lord ever came back. As soon as Reina revealed to me who she was, she wanted to take me into hiding with her. They had to find the right spell before that could happen," he continued his explanation. Hermione pushed earlier thoughts of embarrassment in the man's presence aside. She'd had many questions about his inert Mark that had never been explained. "At Azkaban my sister found me just after one of the rebels hit with a curse. She stunned me, otherwise I wouldn't have gone with her. When I came to in their safe house, the Mark had already been charmed."

"Do you think they could charm Rodolphus' Mark?"

The wizard in question whimpered at the mention of his name. His wide eyes stared into Thorfinn's direction begging for an answer.

"I trust my sister more than I trust anyone else. If she can, she would help."

"I will have to ask Antonin if it is all right to bring them here," she replied, scratching Argos behind the ear as she did so. "He doesn't want a bunch of people to know where we live."

Thorfinn nodded in agreement and the animagus rubbed his head against Hermione's legs. With the potion clasped in her hands, she returned to their bedroom. Despite his earlier protests of staying in bed all day, Antonin was almost asleep when she returned. She hadn't even been gone a few minutes.

"Antonin?"

He slowly opened his eyes at the sound of her voice. She climbed back in the bed next to him. As soon as she was settled with her back against the headboard, Antonin laid his head in her lap. He would never come out and admit so but he loved when she ran her hand through his hair every bit as much as he loved doing so to hers. It was a relaxing and intimate act that they never grew tired of.

"I was just in the kitchen with Rodolphus and Thorfinn. There is a way to block Rodolphus' Dark Mark so he can stay in his human form, but we need help from Reina and Lucius."

Antonin's entire body tensed. He turned his head to look up at the woman.

"I will _not_ allow Lucius in my home."

"But Antonin, we owe him."

"Absolutely not. If Thorfinn wants to take him somewhere else to meet Lucius, he can, but I will not have that man in my home."

She sighed. Experience had taught her when she could talk the wizard into his changing his mind and when he could not. His problems with Lucius were likely to never go away completely. She didn't understand them all and was fairly certain that she didn't want to know the complete truth.

"What if just Reina came?" she suggested. "You told me yourself that you liked her."

"I'd like her a lot better if she had better taste in men."

"Antonin, please."

The wizard laid his head back down in her lap to think over his next response. Hermione felt her clenched stomach loosen the longer he considered the proposal. At least she could tell that he wasn't going to reject her suggestion outright. After several tense minutes, Antonin sighed and rolled over. She watched him pick up his wand and a knut from his nightstand. When she realized he was making a portkey, she couldn't hide the smile from her face.

"Reina _only_ ," he said, pushing the knut into her hand. "Lucius is not allowed."

Hermione leaned down to kiss the man on the top of his head. He didn't seem pleased by his decision. She handed him the vial of potion. With a grimace on his countenance he looked back up into her face.

"What is this?" he demanded, his earlier grumpy mood becoming even more prevalent.

"Dreamless Sleep potion."

"I don't want it."

He moved to give it back to her, but she refused to take it.

"You're exhausted, Antonin. When was the last time you got a full night's sleep?"

When he didn't answer, she continued.

"Just take it and spend the day catching up on your sleep."

He stared at her for a few moments with a defiant gleam in his eyes. Hermione was prepared for a protracted battle if the need arose. He was an infuriatingly stubborn man at times. Ripping the cork out of the vial, Antonin swallowed the contents of the entire vial in one swig. She leaned down to kiss him again on the top of his head before she slipped out of bed. _Hopefully he'll be in a better mood when he wakes up._

"Antonin said that he will allow Reina to come to the cottage, but _only_ Reina," Hermione announced to Thorfinn and Rodolphus. They'd relocated to the living room during her short test of wills with her wizard. "I have a portkey to send her if she is willing."

Thorfinn rose from the sofa with a bright smile. He picked up a discarded quill and piece of parchment left on a side table to pen a quick missive to his little sister. Hermione pasted the knut on to the end of his letter with a sticking charm before attaching it to the leg of Antonin's surly, unpleasant owl. As she watched the spectacled owl fly out the window she was thankful that she had very little occasion to need to send post. She'd already been nipped several times by the exotic owl. If it didn't return from its destination she wouldn't be sad in the slightest.

"How do you feel about your sister and Lucius?" Hermione asked as they began the long process of waiting for a response or a visit.

The blonde wizard shrugged his shoulders. They'd only slightly touched on the subject of his younger sister living with the much older wizard during their time secluded in his cabin. It wasn't a subject that he was terribly comfortable with, but Hermione's curiosity was strong that morning.

"I wasn't pleased at first," he answered. "Your wizard can attest to that. I had some unkind words to say to my sister that she made me regret later after our meeting at Lucius' manor with Antonin. I've always worried about the girl. She's not exactly… well, she's not exactly like other witches. Never has been. Too damn trusting."

"She's sweet. No wonder you think she's odd. Nothing like you," Hermione teased to lessen the tension in the room.

Thorfinn scoffed.

"Do you remember that first dinner party at Rabastan's?"

"Yes, I remember you propositioned me in the library."

They both laughed at the memory of their meeting over fire whiskey in the library.

"Yes, well, after you made that splendid display in the study and told Rabastan to go fuck himself, the discussion turned to you. Rabastan made a comment to Antonin that he needed to keep you under control. Macnair asked Antonin to give you to him for a few days and he would bring you back more willing to obey him."

"That's disgusting."

"I agree. I couldn't stand being in the same room with that man a moment longer. Just stood up and stormed out of the manor. I almost made it to the gates before Lucius caught up with me. He promised me that he would use his contacts to find out what they could about Reina's whereabouts. Didn't know it at the time, but he left that night and spoke with the rebels to find out where she was. By the day after the blasted party she was already living in his manor."

"Wow, that seems uncharacteristically kind of Malfoy."

"I might not always care for the bloke, but my sister loves him. He loves her too if you watch them for half a second. He's not the obvious choice, but I know he will keep her protected and treat her like a queen. That's all a protective older brother can hope for, right?"

Her response was cut off by a firm knock on the front door. They both rose from the sofa in the same moment. Hermione was pleased to see the Hufflepuff waiting outside. With a smile, she gestured for Reina to enter. Thorfinn wrapped his younger sister in a warm, protected embrace. They had seen each other a few days before, but with the dramatic events of the previous day, he was obviously grateful to see his sister was all right.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Reina," Hermione said as she led the siblings over to the sofa. "Would you care for some tea?"

"No, thank you," Reina answered with a warm smile. "You have a lovely home, Hermione. I'm honestly a little bit surprised to be invited to it."

"Thank you. Antonin returned from his mission last night. Long story, but he found us and allowed Thorfinn to stay in our guest room."

Reina turned a puzzled expression in her brother's direction. He simply shrugged his shoulders in response.

"Your letter was very short, Finnie."

"Yes, well, it didn't seem like the sort of thing I should expand on too much in a letter," he answered. "We were wondering if you could help us."

"You know you don't even have to ask. If it is within my power, I will help you."

"Don't be so quick to make promises," Hermione muttered.

Rodolphus entered the room at that moment still in his Argos form. He spent a lot of time with the blonde witch when Hermione was sleeping at Calliope Smith's home. Reina's face split into a cheerful beam when the Saint Bernard bounced over into her direction. Not caring that his fur would cling to her dark robes, Reina leaned down to snuggle the dog's massive head in her lap. Both parties seemed happy with the arrangement if Rodolphus' furiously wagging tail was any indication.

"I don't even really know where to start," said Hermione.

"Argos is actually Rodolphus Lestrange in animagus form," Thorfinn blurted out.

"Yes, well, I guess that was one way to explain it," Hermione mumbled.

Reina did not seem perturbed at all by the knowledge that the large dog she was happily scratching and bestowing kisses on was actually a well-known Death Eater and Azkaban escapee. Hermione thought the woman was handling the news much better than she did the night before. After an awkward silence where Reina continued to pet the animagus' head and scratch behind his ears, she finally burst out in loud laughter. Thorfinn and Hermione exchanged worried looks with each other at the outburst.

"I thought your dog was a bit strange, Hermione," Reina admitted. "Just didn't realize how strange."

"We were wondering if you would be able to perform the same charm on his Dark Mark that you did on your brother's."

Reina sat in silence contemplating the request for another few moments. At the nudging of her hand with his head, Rodolphus whimpered and looked up at the woman with such soulful, puppy eyes that there was no way she could refuse. Reina dropped one last kiss on top of the dog's head before standing up.

"If you will please assume your normal form, Mr. Lestrange."

Rodolphus shifted effortlessly back into his human form. It was an impressive sight that Hermione couldn't help but feel a bit jealous of. To have the ability to shift into an animal would be a wonderful feat of magic. _Maybe one day_ , she thought. As it was she had all of the time in the world to study if she wanted and having an animagus tutor could only help. She shook her head to banish the tangential thoughts her brain was chasing. There were important things to worry about at present.

"You don't have to be so formal with me, my dear," Rodolphus said to Reina.

She smiled at the man and grasped his left arm with her left hand. The process of placing the stasis charm on the Dark Mark seemed to take no time at all. Hermione watched without blinking for fear that she would miss something important. She had so many questions for the witch. If this could prevent the Dark Lord from knowing where his Death Eaters were, maybe it would come in handy in the future with Antonin. She still harbored fantasies about running away from the war with her wizard. This seemingly simple charm could make it possible.

"You have to strengthen the charm about every week or so," Reina explained. "I will teach you and Thorfinn both the incantation."

"Why haven't you shown me before?" Thorfinn asked, a hint of a pout on his face.

"Because then I wouldn't have had an excuse to come visit you as often as I did, big brother."

He seemed mollified by her response. Rodolphus stared at his lightly glowing Dark Mark with an expression of wonder and amazement. Hermione carefully led the overwhelmed man to an empty armchair.

"I'll teach you how to do the charm too, Hermione, if you want," suggested Reina.

"Yes, please!"

"That way you know what to do in case your owl turns out to be another defector," she teased. "I have some notes at home that I can bring back some time soon."

Reina settled back down on the sofa next to her brother. There was still a great deal they all needed to discuss. So much had happened the previous day that Hermione made the decision to summon the tray for tea. She sat down in the only remaining empty armchair to begin conjuring and boiling the water. It gave her hands something to do.

"What happened yesterday after you got Hermione's patronus?" asked Thorfinn.

"Lucius and I arrived at the cabin not long after. We were upset to hear that the cabin had been breached. Macnair was removed from the area. He will no longer be a problem."

"What did you do, Reinie?" He dropped his voice but everyone was still able to hear him clearly.

"What needed to be done. I'm not ashamed and I will never regret what I did."

Thorfinn wrapped both his large arms around his sister to pull her close to him in a warm embrace. He was whispering into her hair low enough that only Reina could hear. Both Hermione and Rodolphus turned their faces away to give the siblings some privacy. It warmed Hermione's heart to see how much Thorfinn loved his little sister.

"Now that Macnair is dead, there are two more to kill before I am satisfied," Reina announced to the small group.

Not for the first time Hermione admired the woman's courage. She was obviously not one of those damsel in distress types that relied on the men in her life to keep her protected. The glint in her blue eyes was dangerous and if directed towards Hermione, she would've been terrified. She wasn't positive which two Reina was talking about, but it didn't matter. Hermione had every confidence that they would be taken care of.

"Wouldn't life be a lot easier if we could just start taking out the Death Eaters one by one?"

Hermione didn't expect the actual audible words to slip out of her mouth. She had simply been thinking. Every pair of eyes in the living room turned to stare in her direction. If she didn't know any better, she would've assumed that they were all _intrigued_ by her silly proposition.

"I like it," announced Rodolphus.

"Me too," agreed Reina.

"The world thinks you and I are both dead, mate. They wouldn't suspect us," Thorfinn added, nodding in the other wizard's direction.

"What are you saying?" Hermione asked. "Are you suggesting that we start our own little rebel group and start taking out the Death Eaters ourselves?"

Three smiling faces answered her question.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

The sun had already set and the moon rose before Antonin opened his eyes again after his bossy little witch forced him to drink a foul potion to sleep longer than he cared to sleep. Awakening at night was a disconcerting feeling that he did not enjoy. It reminded him too much of his life spent in a dank cell where sunlight was an uncommon luxury. Since the day he was broken out of that hellhole for the first time and then again for the second, he preferred staying awake with the sun. Hermione teased him about being jealous of the small patch of earth he was turning into a garden. While she consumed his hours spent in the dark, he spent every moment he could outside while the sun was shining.

A faint buzz coming off of the side of the bedroom that shared a common wall with the kitchen indicated a rather powerful silencing charm was preventing him from being able to hear the noises in the rest of the cottage. Even if he couldn't pick out Hermione's magical signature from a mile way he knew she was responsible. When that woman set her mind to something, she did not waver. He usually admired that trait when it wasn't driving him bloody mad.

After a quick shower, Antonin dressed in a clean set of pajamas. He didn't see the need to dress for a day that was already gone. The moment he pulled open the warded door his senses were assaulted with the scents of something delicious. His stomach reminded him that he couldn't remember the last time he had a proper meal. Too long certainly. The other three occupants of the tiny kitchen were too engrossed in their heated discussion to even realize another enter the room. Hermione and two of her Death Eater protectors were staring at several large pieces of parchment. He was curious to know what had their attention captured so thoroughly until he passed a plate on the stove keeping warm under a stasis charm.

Hermione caught sight of her wizard in the corner of her eye at the precise moment he was examining what was obviously his dinner. With a bright grin she rose from her seat to cross the kitchen.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked after kissing him thoroughly. Their small audience didn't seem to bother her much. He grumbled in response and turned back to the food. "Oh! Reina made shepherd's pie before she left. We saved you some."

Antonin wordlessly summoned a fork to tuck in. His mouth was already watering. If looks and smells were anything to go by, Reina Rowle knew her way around the kitchen.

"It's our mum's recipe. I begged her to make it before she went home to Lucius," Thorfinn explained.

Antonin had to use every bit of self-control he had to not inhale his meal after the first bite. He was more than a little impressed.

"If she wants to cook like this again, she is welcome in my home at any time."

He didn't notice the reddened cheeks of his witch until Thorfinn pointed them out with a loud laugh.

"Poor Princess, she can't even cook something that the dog will eat."

In hindsight, Antonin really shouldn't have laughed. He felt a bubble of mirth rise within him before he stopped to consider the fact that joining in with Thorfinn's chuckles was likely to hurt the feelings of the woman who shared his bed. Only Rodolphus stopped to consider how teasing Hermione might be affecting the lone witch in the room.

"You're being unfair to Hermione," declared Rodolphus.

Antonin didn't miss the grateful little smile that Hermione sent in the animagus' direction. While he had enough sense to feel a tiny bit ashamed about laughing, Thorfinn was only encouraged to laugh louder.

"Oi! My sister removed your collar, pup. You can be honest."

They could all almost _hear_ Hermione's eyes roll. Rodolphus seemed to be fighting and losing an internal battle with himself on how to proceed. Thorfinn's continued chortles only pushed him closer to his decision.

"All right, fine," Rodolphus conceded. "Hermione, my dear, it is obvious that you possess a great deal of talent in many areas _outside_ of the kitchen."

"You can all starve for all I care."

Hermione returned to her place at the table fighting her own smile while everyone else in the kitchen chuckled at her response. Antonin couldn't help but think how adorable she could be when she was mad. When she rolled her eyes again and smiled, Antonin felt a small jolt of relief. He decided to make the effort to change the subject.

"What are you all working on?"

From his position leaned up against the stove, he could see the parchment on the table but couldn't hope to read them from that distance. Even though it was his own house he didn't feel right looking over their shoulders. From the uneasy looks the three were exchanging it was apparent that their project was serious and not necessarily one they were ready to share. It was finally his little witch who spoke up.

"Antonin, do you want the war to be over?"

It was a silly question to ask. Of course he wanted it all to be over. Too much of his life had already been spent at war. He longed for a peaceful, quiet existence with a woman much too young for him in their comfortable cottage by the sea. To no longer be subject to the whims of his cruel master would be more than he could hope for.

"Yes, Hermione. Of course."

Thorfinn and Rodolphus were engaged in a non-verbal conversation using only wary expressions on their countenances. Whatever they had been discussing it was obvious that the two men weren't eager for his involvement.

"How are your Occlumency skills?" she asked as if it were a question one heard every day.

"Excellent," he replied. "My father taught me very early. It's second nature to me now. It's part of why I didn't lose my mind completely in Azkaban."

"Will you swear to me that you won't tell _anyone_ what I'm about to tell you?"

"I swear."

"Reina killed Walden Macnair."

Whatever he was expecting her to say was certainly not what she actually said. He wasn't exactly surprised to hear that the girl had taken her revenge on her rapist. In fact, he was rather pleased to learn that she was able to rid the world of one more piece of vile scum. Macnair would not be mourned.

"She plans on killing Vince Crabbe and Gary Goyle next," Hermione continued.

"Can't say I blame the girl. She has every right and the world will certainly be a better place without them in it."

A smile crossed Hermione's nervous face at his response. For a moment he felt ill at ease with the change. Just what exactly had they been discussing while he was sleeping in the next room?

"We want to start taking out the Death Eaters," Hermione announced.

He didn't want to admit that he was actually intrigued by her statement. It was an ambitious and dangerous prospect. His job as Hermione's protector was to do his utmost to keep her out of situations that could kill her. He'd already failed more than once. It was simply by sheer luck that she wasn't dead.

"I assume you don't mean you want to take them out on dates."

Hermione didn't appreciate his sarcastic remark. She leveled him with a stern expression and rolled her eyes. Sometimes it was too easy to rile the woman. He enjoyed it entirely too much.

"No, Antonin. We don't want to take them out for a romantic candlelight dinner."

"It would probably help with some of their dispositions," added Thorfinn. "Maybe all some of them need is just pleasant conversation and an opportunity for a good shag."

"Shut up, Thorfinn." She was the only one in the kitchen not smiling or rolling their eyes after his remark.

"I think Sal Selwyn would declare his undying devotion to Harry Potter and offer to kill the Dark Lord himself for just a glimpse of your knickers, Princess."

"Try not to be disgusting, please."

"Now there's an idea," Thorfinn continued as if Hermione hadn't said a word. "Antonin, how about we take Hermione…"

"No."

Thorfinn laughed at his own joke. He always struggled with when to be serious and when it was all right to joke around. Antonin often forgot how young the wizard actually was.

"We think that we should start killing them one by one," explained Rodolphus. "It will be easier for Thorfinn and me to do so. Everyone thinks we're dead. Makes for a bit of surprise."

"This is an interesting idea," Antonin conceded. "I would like to know more of your plans before I decide whether or not I will support Hermione or myself being a part of it."

"Antonin, I'm a grown woman capable of making my own decisions."

"You are also under my protection. I will not fail you again."

She chose not to argue with him further in front of the other two wizards. This was a discussion meant for closed doors. Naturally he rather liked the idea of bringing down the Dark Lord's forces from within, but there had to be a firm, set plan before he would join. Too much was at stake to put his galleons on a losing dragon.

"The Dark Lord has grown very weak lately," said Thorfinn. "It's not something that anyone would dare say out loud, but he doesn't look good. I overheard little Malfoy telling his father once that Slughorn makes him some sort of potion made with unicorn blood to remain stable. Macnair was always the one who went hunting in the Forbidden Forest for unicorns. He was trying to teach Sal how to track them before he died, but Sal's an imbecile. He'd shoot himself in the foot before he'd ever shoot a unicorn."

"Do you think he is likely to die soon?" Rodolphus asked.

"I'm not sure he even _can_ die," Antonin answered for Thorfinn.

"It's all because of his lost horcruxes."

All three men stopped to turn and stare at the single witch in the room. It was obvious by her confident statement that she had more information than any of them were aware. Antonin had never even heard of the word 'horcrux' before but it made him uneasy.

"Do any of you know what a horcrux is?" she inquired as if they were her students and this was just another Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

They all shook their heads 'no'.

"I've heard the word a time or two, but I haven't got the first clue what they are," admitted Rodolphus.

"Yes, well, they are terrifyingly nasty objects. I _wish_ I didn't know anything about them, but I believe I'm the second most knowledgeable in the country on that subject," Hermione said, a hint of a shudder passing through her body. "They are about as Dark of magic as you can imagine. I can't explain to you the details of how they're made, but I've spent a lot of time around them."

None of her words were clearing up their confusion. If anything, Antonin only had more questions. An education learned at Vadim Dolohov's knee before he entered Hogwarts was full of Dark Magic. He had a great deal of experience dealing with the less savory aspects of magic. In addition to his father's teachings, he had always been a voracious reader. Not once in all of his studies had he come across what she was talking about.

"A horcrux is a powerful object in which a Dark wizard has hidden a part of their soul for the purpose of attaining immortality."

Her textbook definition did little to actually answer his questions. She could've read it word for word out of some ghastly, archaic textbook.

"The Dark Lord actually split his soul to make it impossible to die," she continued. "I've touched some of his horcruxes and they were so foul I cannot even hope to describe them. No one has ever attempted to make so many before. One is bad enough, but he actually made seven."

Antonin had always been aware that there was something _off_ about his master. How else could an infant defeat him and he could go on to live for years without a proper body? Why was he always so frightened of a mere boy with messy hair and glasses?

"So the Dark Lord had parts of his soul stashed away in objects?" Thorfinn asked. "What kind of objects? How do you know about them? Where are they now?"

Hermione sighed and took a deep breath before answering. Antonin was anxious to hear the answers to the questions.

"They have to be made after a murder. He had a diary that Lucius had in his possession. That was the first one destroyed. Lucius didn't understand what he had and tried to humiliate Arthur Weasley with it by slipping it in his daughter's cauldron her first year."

"Idiot," Antonin murmured to himself. How Lucius could be entrusted with something as serious as a piece of the Dark Lord's soul was beyond him.

"There was a ring he hid in his mother's home that Dumbledore found and destroyed. Then there was a locket that actually belonged to Salazar Slytherin that had been hidden in a cave. That one turned out to be a fake. Harry, Ron and I infiltrated the Ministry to steal the real one from Dolores Umbridge's neck.

"The lost diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw was in the Room of Requirement. That was destroyed on the day of the final battle. Or, I guess technically the night before. Those two days all run together."

"The Dark Lord actually _found_ the lost diadem?"

As was any good Ravenclaw, Antonin was familiar with the story of the lost diadem of his House's founder. Generations of Ravenclaws spent their school years and even beyond at times in the search. Antonin had given it all up as a baseless legend at some point in his third year. He never expected anyone to be successful.

"Yes, he found it in Albania. Long story. I can tell you all the details later. Basically, he learned its whereabouts from the Grey Lady, found it, made it into a horcrux and hid it in Hogwarts.

"His snake was also a horcrux. Neville killed it. Harry never admitted so before he died or maybe he didn't even know, but I highly suspect that he was an accidental horcrux. All of the research I did on them during what should've been my seventh year led me to that conclusion."

Antonin placed his hand on her shoulder at the mention of her friend. She rarely brought him up in conversation. It was simply too painful for her to talk about her lost loved ones at length.

"That's only six. What about the seventh?"

It was Rodolphus that asked the seemingly innocuous question. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Hermione began to blush and fidget in her chair. It was apparent that she didn't want to answer.

"It was a small gold cup that once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff," Hermione answered in a whisper.

Rodolphus' eyes widened immediately.

"I had no idea what that was or the significance," he said, visibly shaken by the knowledge. "Bella was so please when he asked her to put it in our vault. Neither one of us knew the truth."

"Yeah, well, she was so terrified that we'd been in your vault that she unknowingly revealed that she had one," Hermione explained.

"How did you manage it?" Rodolphus asked. "Rabastan only heard rumors and I wasn't exactly in a position to ask for more details."

"We had help from a goblin. After Bellatrix tortured me at Malfoy Manor she left a hair behind on my jumper. I used it in some polyjuice potion and then used her wand we'd stolen as identification. It was a ridiculous plan. We almost failed a dozen times and I lost count the number of Imperius Curses we had to use. The cup was well protected in the vault and we easily could have been crushed and burned to death."

She had to take another deep breath to continue her story. Her listeners didn't mind. They were all intensely curious to find out more.

"Even after we were finally able to get the cup we were almost caught. If it wasn't for the dragon being there…"

"Wait, that was _true_?" Thorfinn interrupted. "You and your little mates escaped Gringotts on the back of a bloody dragon?"

"Yes?"

"Fuck, Princess, we all thought that was _Potterwatch_ propaganda."

"No, it's true. I've got the crippling nightmares to prove it. I _hate_ flying."

"Excuse my saying so, Antonin, but fuck, Princess, you just got a whole lot hotter. That's fucking fantastic."

Hermione's entire face and most of her neck blushed bright crimson. Antonin thought she was adorable when she was embarrassed. He was mildly annoyed by Thorfinn's comment, but couldn't exactly argue with the man. How many women could boast about riding on the back of a flying dragon?

"How were these horcruxes destroyed?" Rodolphus asked in an effort to put the witch at ease.

"The ring, the locket and the snake were all destroyed with a goblin forged sword imbued with basilisk venom. Fiendfyre took care of the diadem. The Killing Curse got Harry. Harry and I stabbed the journal and the cup, respectively, with a basilisk fang."

Thorfinn whistled and the other two wizards simply stared.

"You don't still have a basilisk fang, do you?" asked Thorfinn. "I'd hate to make you angry when you've proven you know how to use one."

"I had a couple in this little bag I always carried until I was taken to the Ministry. Don't know what happened to it after the aurors took it. I wish I could have it back. Many of the books I had inside were irreplaceable."

Hermione shook her head before speaking again.

"He's mortal now and he's too unstable to make another horcrux. No one in history has ever made as many as he did. It's unsafe."

"If we manage to reduce the Dark Lord's forces it will only be a matter of time before the Dark Lord falls," Rodolphus said.

"Part of the reason why no one has tried to attack him since the end of the war is because we all believed he couldn't be killed," added Antonin. "If he's mortal, someone needs to get close enough to kill him."

"Yes, well, that is something we need to think about down the road a ways," Rodolphus replied. "We need to lower the number of available forces to not only make it possible to bring him down but to also make sure that there won't be a new leader to try to step up and take his place. Wouldn't do us any good to kill the leader only for another to rise up."

They were all in agreement with Rodolphus' sage words of advice. Antonin appreciated having a slightly older voice of reason nestled amongst the young idealists. Rodolphus hadn't survived as long as he had by being foolish and rushing in to a situation only partially prepared.

"Maybe the new government would go easy on all of us if they knew we were responsible," Thorfinn suggested.

"How do you mean?" asked Antonin.

"Well, you two were both already pardoned for your crimes in the first way by the Wizengamot. As I understood the process it's magically binding. Even if the future government wanted to throw you in prison, they couldn't for any crimes committed before May 2, 1998."

"That's correct."

It had been an odd feeling being summoned to the floor of the Wizengamot chambers following the death of Harry Potter. Antonin would never forget the feeling of receiving his official pardon and the sheer relief that came with it. He was not an innocent man. Far from it, in fact. The crimes he was sent to Azkaban for he actually committed. There had been no false imprisonment.

"But I've done plenty since after the war that I'm sure any rebel-backed government would still want me in prison for," Antonin said, fighting to ignore the heavy ball of dread forming in his gut.

"Yes, well, that's why we need to do something dramatic and meaningful," Thorfinn replied. "We can still hope that we will be pardoned for what we've done after the war ended."

Antonin could sense from the expression on Hermione's face that she did not want to continue their current line of discussion. It heartened him to realize that his witch didn't want to think about a day arriving where she'd be forced to watch him marched away to prison in handcuffs. He'd been able to spare his mum the heartbreak and humiliation of that moment by waiting until after she died. He never wanted Hermione to be ashamed of him or their relationship.

"Would you like to see our plans so far?" Hermione asked, obviously desperate to change the tone of the conversation.

She reached for his hand before he even formulated a proper response. His empty plate was set in the sink before he followed her over to the transfigured table covered in parchment.

"This is just the beginning, of course," she explained. "We've only been writing down plans for a few hours."

Her notes were detailed and well organized. Every Death Eater's name was written on small pieces of parchment that they were moving back and forth from a large parchment that was headed "Potential Assets" and another that was titled "Unredeemable". Several of the higher ranked Death Eaters were firmly attached to the "Unredeemable" parchment. He wasn't surprised to see Crabbe, Goyle and Nott all on the top.

"We've been trying to separate everyone into these two groups to begin with. Some we know will never be willing to join us. Once we get everyone sorted we will start making a list of who needs to go first," Hermione continued to explain. "I've already been creating some Arithmantic equations that could help up determine who our first targets should be."

Arithmancy was never Antonin's strongest subject in school but even he understood enough to be impressed yet again with all of the work she'd put in working on her formulas. Had she really only been working on this since this morning?

"This looks good," he declared. "Though may I make a suggestion of another list that could aid you in determining potential assets?"

"Of course!" She was excited by any suggestions he had if her tone of voice and the way her eyes lit up were any indication.

"You should make a list of those we know, or at least suspect, didn't join willingly. Who was forced by a family member or through blackmail? It will make it easier to determine who might be a potential asset. Put Theo Nott on the top."

Her only response was fierce scribbling on a fresh sheet of parchment. With the sound of her quill filling up the silence, Antonin took a moment to examine the names already on the lists and the ones they were still trying to decide. He saw a couple of names he was positive he could place. Without a word of explanation he moved the slips with Jugson's name and his girlfriend's name over to the "Unredeemable" parchment.

"Are you certain about that, mate?" Thorfinn asked. "Jugson is an idiot, but Edana has always been good for a laugh. I wouldn't call her sweet, but she's not horrible as far as the female Death Eaters go."

"Jugson is cruel and too enmeshed with Theodore to be anything but a liability. Edana will do whatever he tells her to do. In fact, we should put her _above_ him on the list. She is just mad enough to be a problem if he died first."

"Okay, fair enough. Anyone else you think we should move?"

"Yes, take Yaxley off of "Unredeemable" and put him under "Potential Asset"."

Hermione's scratching ceased as she stared up at him with wide, perplexed eyes. Obviously she had a difference in opinion. Even Thorfinn seemed confused.

"After Azkaban, the Dark Lord forced him to torture and murder his five year old daughter," Antonin explained. "He was imperiused. I wouldn't be surprised to find out he was on our side."

Antonin tried to ignore the tears rolling down Hermione's cheeks. He didn't want to think about what the poor bastard had been forced to do. Charles Yaxley had always been fiercely proud of his two young daughters. While Antonin was recovering in St. Mungo's, Charles was being punished for his failure to kill Lucius at Azkaban. The horrific details of the incident were happily shared by the sadistic fuck Selwyn during their mission to Russia.

"Move Cadmus Mulciber to "Potential" as well. His family was tortured into insanity a couple of months ago. If he believes there might be some hope for his family's future, he could be used. If he finds out his family can never be helped, he will need to be moved to "Unredeemable" swiftly and dispatched immediately. He's too much of an emotional liability."

Over the next half an hour Antonin went through every name they had written down to provide his own opinion on which column they could be placed. He had a special perspective considering his years a Death Eater especially in the several months since Thorfinn went into hiding. Most of the names no one argued with him on. Occasionally his suggestions were met with fierce opposition and debate. It felt strangely satisfying to see the twin columns of names lying next to each other on the kitchen table. Somehow it felt more like a reality when it was spelled out in black ink than when they were just discussing it in the abstract.

"Antonin, I should've asked you to sign this before we started our discussion."

Hermione pulled a wrinkled piece of folded up parchment from her pocket. Carefully unrolling it on the table, she handed him a black quill he didn't recognize. One of his first lessons in life was to never sign his name to anything without a proper understanding of what it was. He requested an explanation before he agreed to sign.

"It's an agreement that you won't speak about any of this with anyone outside of our group," she explained. "It's to keep us all honest and protected. We've all signed it."

Antonin glanced at the names: Hermione Jean Granger, Rodolphus Rosier Lestrange, Thorfinn Damocles Rowle, Reina Violetta Rowle and even Lucius Abraxas Malfoy. His eyes narrowed when he read Lucius' name. When did he sign the parchment? Did Hermione ignore his rule and allow the man in their home against his wishes? Sensing his rising agitation, Hermione quickly answered the question he hadn't asked out loud.

"Reina took this to Lucius for him to sign. He was very interested in our plans and wants to do what he can to help. He was never here."

"Did everyone sign in blood?"

She was uncomfortable with his question and hesitated. It didn't really need to be answered. He could identify the dark red smears. He also recognized a blood quill when he saw one.

"Princess, will the consequences of breaking this vow be worse than simply bad acne?" Thorfinn asked, winking and grinning in her direction.

"Much much worse," she answered, dropping her eyes to stare at the floor.

Antonin could feel the Dark magic weaved inside of the parchment long before he ever signed his name. His pride in his witch's abilities were at war with his desire to keep her away from the darkness that he'd known his entire life. Once again he wished he could protect her from the less savory aspects of their world. He examined the blood quill in his hand before he pressed it into the parchment. He'd actually never seen one up close before and he wondered how it came to be in Hermione's possession,

"I snuck over to the manor earlier and took a few things," Rodolphus said as if Antonin had asked his question out loud. "Hermione and I were discussing how to bind everyone involved together and I remembered my father had that nasty little bugger in his office."

"It's like what those Muggle gangs always say," Hermione added. "'Blood in, blood out.'"

Antonin suppressed a shiver at the gravity of her statement. If he chose to sign his name in blood he would be bound to their motley crew for either the duration of his possibly short life or until the day the Dark Lord finally fell forever. One glance at Hermione's anxious expression was all he required to sign his name.

His hand stung and began to burn the instant he applied pressure to the tip of the quill. He ignored the sharp pain to sign his full name with a flourish. When he stopped writing to stare back at his name written in bright red blood, he felt another tiny hand grasp his and submerge it in a small bowl. Immediately the pain all but disappeared.

"Essence of murtlap," Hermione explained. "Many of us became quite familiar with this during my fifth year when Umbridge made us write lines with a similar quill."

"She made you write _lines_ with a blood quill?" Rodolphus was outraged. "You were all children!"

"Harry had a scar on the back of his hand from the horrid woman. 'I must not tell lies'."

"What did she claim he was lying about?" he demanded, still visibly upset.

"She claimed he was lying about You Know Who's return."

"I suppose that answers the question I had about the spell you placed on her that night," Antonin said.

He whispered, but not quietly enough to go unheard by the other wizards congregated in the small kitchen. Hermione wordlessly shrugged off the silent questions from the others. When Thorfinn seemed as if he was going to open his mouth to insist, she promised she would tell him later. Rodolphus requested that he be allowed to be a part of their discussion.

"We should all go to bed," Hermione said, rising from her chair. "It's been a really long day."

None of the men were willing to argue with the woman once she made up her mind.

* * *

Several days after signing his life away, Antonin found himself walking down High Street in Hogsmeade with his hands full of shopping bags. The brisk October night air was clean and just what the wizard needed to clear his mind. His refuge by the sea had become something like a way station. He received almost daily visits from Miss Rowle who came over to discuss strategy and to visit her older brother who had _still_ not moved out of his guest room. Rodolphus spent much of his time downstairs in his study. Whether he was sleeping on the worn sofa as a man or as a dog was of no consequence to him.

He missed the halcyon days of life in the cottage when it was just the two of them and Hermione's weird dog. They never had to worry about silencing spells or running out of milk too quickly because Thorfinn always used too much in his tea. If he didn't feel an obligation to give the young wizard a place to stay because of his caring for Hermione while he was gone, he would've gladly booted him out the back gate and altered the wards to keep him out. The only roommate he wanted was a tiny, little curly-haired witch who snored and made him forget what he was saying just by walking into the room. Knowing that the likelihood of having a life alone with her would only be possible if the Dark Lord was gone, Antonin felt a resurgence in his conviction that their insane, half-cocked plan might actually work.

"Did you forget you were a wizard, Antonin?" a familiar voice teased him a few feet away.

Antonin spun around abruptly to see a smirking Theo Nott step out of Tomes and Scrolls. Instantly relaxing when he realized who it was, Antonin simply snorted and asked what he meant by his question. Of course he hadn't forgotten he was a wizard.

"All of your packages," Theo replied. "A _real_ wizard would just shrink them all down to put in his pocket."

Antonin rolled his eyes and sighed. As the only inhabitant of the cottage free to move about the wizarding village, he was often sent out on errands for the others. Hermione needed a new quill. Thorfinn was craving a certain kind of fire whiskey. Rodolphus' sweet tooth was demanding the premium chocolate frogs from Honeydukes. It was annoying and beneath his dignity to be demoted to errand boy, but one pleading look from Hermione and he was putty in her manipulative hands. His thoughts had run away from him. Shrinking the packages had not even occurred to him. With a quick incantation and flick of his wrist, all of his purchases fit nicely in his pocket.

"I knew that," Antonin said to himself.

Theo obviously heard as his laughter could attest to.

"Well, there's a lovely girl about to close up Scrivenshaft's that I want to ask to join me for a drink," he announced. Theo extended his hand for a firm handshake form the other wizard. "Wish me luck."

Antonin laughed, pleased to see the usually serious boy, err, _young man_ , acting more his age. His dreadful story about the poor girl at the Umbridge Home often popped into Antonin's mind since he heard it only a few days earlier. He sincerely wished him luck before watching the young wizard practically bounce off towards the quill and stationary shop.

He was enjoying the cool Scottish evening so much that he decided to walk a bit further out of the village before Apparating to the madhouse that his home had become. In truth he needed just a little bit longer alone in a quiet place. His cottage had become almost stifling now that Thorfinn seemed in no hurry to leave and Argos was no longer a lazy dog content to ignore the very real fact that he was actually a wizard. By the time Antonin reached the end of High Street, he was in a much better mood. Nothing could ruin his enjoyable solitude.

"Good evening, Antonin."

Well, almost anything.

"Theodore, good evening."

He didn't even stop to respond to the elder Nott's greetings. Simply kept walking in the opposite direction. Theodore was not deterred, however.

"I was _pleased_ to hear you got your Mudblood back."

Antonin's feet ceased their forward progression at his words. When he turned around to glare at the older wizard, he was met with laughter.

"Struck a nerve?" Nott asked.

"Bugger off, Nott. I'm not in the mood."

Any wizard with a modicum of good sense would've understood Antonin's terse words and rapid gait away to be strong signs to leave the man alone. He was not a wizard to be trifled with. Nott, however, failed to show the good sense that had not only kept him alive much longer than any of the Dark Lord's first Death Eaters, but out of Azkaban as well. Antonin could hear the man's footsteps behind him as he walked further into the woods surrounding the sleepy village. He longed to curse the man. If Theodore Nott, Senior wasn't on the top of their "Unredeemable" list and one of the first they planned to eliminate, he might have been tempted. A rash act in the heat of the moment could ruin all of their plans.

"I took some interesting articles out of your Mudblood's home when it was first searched."

He chose not to encourage the man by asking what he'd stolen. No doubt he had been fascinated by her mother's knickers or one of those strange objects Hermione called a can opener.

"You know, I always thought it was strange that the girl's bedroom had a Muggle repelling charm placed on it. Maybe no one else noticed, but I wondered about its presence in a Muggle house."

Antonin continued walking. He knew he should've simply Disapparated but a small part of him wanted to know where Nott was going with his ramblings.

"I found an interesting piece of mail in the Muggles' office. Do you know what a credit card statement is?"

Nott didn't even wait for Antonin to respond before continuing.

"Muggles carry these little plastic cards around. I don't understand the mechanics of them, but it is similar to our drafts out of Gringotts. Just like we get a monthly statement from our bank showing us what we spent the prior month, so do Muggles. I found a purchase to an airline and after searching a bit further, I found a receipt for two tickets to Australia under the names Wendell and Monica Wilkins."

As the false names of Hermione's parents filled the night air, Antonin stopped moving. He could feel a tightness in his stomach. Hermione admitted months earlier to him what she'd done to protect her parents from Death Eater attacks. He'd been impressed by her tenacity in keeping her parents out of harm. She'd made a very difficult decision that ultimately saved their lives. To learn that Theodore Nott had discovered her biggest secret made Antonin sick. His wand was out of his pocket and in Nott's face before he even registered what he was doing.

"I want to break your little witch's spirit, Antonin. Once you are dead, the Dark Lord will give her to me. One word to my contact in Brisbane and the world will be cleansed of two more filthy Muggles."

He was prepared to kill the man in front of him if it required his dying breath to do so. The stillness of the night was shattered by a fierce duel. Despite Nott's advanced age, he was still a formidable opponent. He blocked every spell, curse and hex Antonin sent his way. Antonin was able to keep from being struck with the nasty and highly illegal curses Nott was sending in his direction by a little bit of skill and a great deal of luck. He wasn't sure how long they exchanged fire in that clearing before a stray curse finally made its mark.

A sharp pain erupted in Antonin's chest. The force of the curse knocked him flat on his arse. He struggled to catch his breath after the air was knocked out of his lungs. In the few seconds he allowed himself to be vulnerable, Nott stalked over to his struggling form with a triumphant sneer. His wand was pointed directly at the man on the ground.

" _Avada…_ "

Antonin's time had finally come. He'd hoped that he would've died a more heroic death or at the very least not been sprawled out in the dirt.

"… _kedavra_!"

A bright green light blinded Antonin's eyes. He prepared himself for the end, thoughts of Hermione and fears for her safety consuming him. An image of Hermione smiling and swollen with his child brought a bittersweet smile to his face in the final seconds of his life. He would've loved every moment of that future life with her.

Nott crashed to the ground at Antonin's feet… _dead_. Antonin's eyes locked on to young Theo Nott's. His trembling wand arm was outstretched and he looked as if he were going to vomit. Pushing aside his own physical pain, Antonin rose to his feet to approach the frightened boy. He placed a comforting hand on Theo's forearm, gently urging him to lower his wand.

"I'm dead. The Dark Lord will kill me now."

Theo turned from Antonin to empty the contents of his stomach on the grass. Antonin wondered if this was the boy's first kill. He certainly didn't look as if he'd done it before, but perhaps sending the Killing Curse to your own father had a similar effect on everyone.

"You saved my life, Theo. I won't let the Dark Lord harm you if it is in my power to keep you safe."

Before the shaken wizard could even respond, Antonin gripped his arm and Disapparated. They landed just outside the front door to the cottage where Theo promptly vomited again. Antonin opened the front door to find Hermione and Rodolphus seated on the sofa sharing a bottle of wine and laughing. Thorfinn crossed from the kitchen just in time to witness the new arrivals. All three stared at Theo with openmouthed shock.

"I have our first recruit," Antonin announced to the room. " _Daragaya_ , please ask Reina to come immediately."

Hermione jumped up to send a letter. Rodolphus handed Theo an extra large glass of wine. He certainly needed it.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty One

It was well after midnight before the excitement of Theo Nott's sudden arrival at the cottage died down. Reina had been able to charm his Mark very soon after Hermione sent her an emergency portkey. The young Slytherin stared at his lightly glowing arm with no hint or trace of emotion. Rodolphus continued to ply him with wine in an effort to keep him calm and give the animagus a sense of purpose in the chaos. Theo sipped the wine without saying a single word.

Hermione pulled Antonin into their bedroom while Reina was charming Theo's Mark to get the full story. Almost nine months of living with the man in close quarters had given her a wealth of knowledge on reading his moods and his mannerisms. All signs indicated that he was either lying to her or simply not telling her the full truth. She didn't appreciate secrets and deceptions and had no misgivings about letting him know.

"There is nothing left to say, Hermione," he almost shouted in his frustration. "Theo killed his father outside of Hogsmeade. I had to bring him here or the Dark Lord will have him tortured and executed."

" _Why_ did he kill his own father? You haven't explained that part to me yet."

Antonin ran both of his hands through his hair. His frustration with his witch's questions was palpable. Hermione stood in front of him with her hands on her hips waiting for him to tell her the complete truth. She could dig her heels in every bit as effectively as he could. The wizard lowered himself to the edge of the bed. His elbows rested on his thighs and he kept his beautiful brown eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

"Theo killed his father to prevent his father from killing me."

His quiet words took several beats before they made sense in Hermione's ears. When she finally grasped the severity of the situation her wizard had been in only a short time earlier in the evening, she threw her arms around him in relief. Taken aback by the sudden crushing of his witch's tiny body to his, Antonin needed a moment before he reacted enough to wrap his arms around the sobbing woman.

"Shh, _daragaya_ , I'm all right," he crooned into the curls she knew were tickling his nose.

"I'm so afraid every time you walk out the front door," she admitted, her voice muffled by his shoulder. "The thought of you never coming back terrifies me, Antonin. When you are not home with me, I can hardly breathe for fear."

"I'm sorry that I make you afraid."

Hermione pushed herself backwards at his infuriating words. She sent a light slap to one of his shoulders. It wasn't a hard enough blow to cause pain, simply confused the recipient if his furrowed brow was any indication.

" _You_ don't frighten me, Antonin. I am frightened _for_ you."

"Nott is dead now. He was an openly hostile threat to me that has been eliminated. You need not ever fear him again."

"Yes, one down and how many to go? Not to mention your diseased and soulless master."

"Are you losing faith in your plan so early?"

Hermione fought the desire to slap the man. He could drive her mad when he was insightful. Of course she was losing faith in their ridiculous plan. She wasn't really sure she had some to begin with. How could six, now seven, people really make a difference? Sensing once again what was truly wrong, Antonin pulled Hermione back into his arms to provide whatever comfort he could.

"You once said that you fear for me more than you ever feared for yourself," Hermione whispered. "I feel the same."

Antonin's arms tightened around Hermione. He placed a soft kiss amongst her curls and simply held her close. Many minutes passed before Hermione felt him tense and heard him hiss. She squeezed him tightly knowing that in only a few seconds he would have to leave the safety of their home for the uncertainty of another summons.

"I will be home before you have time to miss me," Antonin said before releasing his grip.

"Too late," she responded.

He left through the exterior door in their bedroom to prevent a scene. It was obvious to them both why he was being summoned. He didn't need to hear the concerned comments from the others in their merry band of outlaws. Hermione kissed him firmly before he disappeared in the darkness.

She allowed herself five minutes to cry and fret silently in the solitude of their bedroom. When her time was up, she stood up, wiped her tears and crossed the room to their shared dresser. Antonin and Theo were of a similar height. Although his clothing would likely be too large on the younger wizard, Hermione selected a clean set of pajamas before shutting the drawer.

Rodolphus had already gone downstairs for the night. Reina and her brother were still seated on the sofa speaking in hushed tones. When Thorfinn caught Hermione surveying the room for their new tenant, he pointed to the staircase that led upstairs to the attic. She found herself standing outside of the door to the guest bedroom before she had the first clue what she was going to say to the man inside.

Tapping into her Gryffindor courage, Hermione squared her shoulders and knocked. A soft voice inside called for her to enter. Theo was standing in the window overlooking the ocean. As autumn wore on, the lead up to the winter storms had already begun. Hermione understood the appeal of watching the violent waves crash into the shore. It was soothing.

"I brought you some pajamas," she announced before setting them on top of the dresser.

"Thank you."

She could only imagine what the poor man must have been experiencing. While she had no doubt that his relationship with his father had been fraught with difficulties, Theo must have been having a hard time with the knowledge that he'd killed his own father.

"Antonin was just summoned," she blurted out for something, anything to say.

"Yeah, I just felt a little tingle," Theo replied. "Someone probably found my father."

"Thank you for saving Antonin."

Theo turned away from the window to face her for the first time. The expression on his face made it clear that he wasn't comfortable with where their conversation was headed. While Hermione certainly didn't want him to be ill at ease any more than he already was, she knew she couldn't pass up the opportunity to tell him what she was feeling. She likely would never get another chance. It might be too awkward in the future.

"I'm very sorry that you had to do what you did, but I won't lie and pretend I'm not grateful that you did it."

He nodded once in acknowledgment.

"Is it serious between you two?"

"Yes."

She was a little unnerved by his question for reasons she couldn't pinpoint. In an effort to distract herself from thoughts best left unthought, she transfigured the large bed into two separate beds. A few more spells were required before she had two identical beds with matching bedding up against opposite walls. After a glance at Theo's tall, lanky frame, she extended both beds to accommodate their occupants' long legs.

"Thorfinn kicks in his sleep and he can get a little handsy in the middle of the night," she explained before snorting and rolling her eyes. "Of course he might have simply been pretending to sleep."

"How do you, uhh, know that?"

His perplexed expression caused Hermione to burst out in loud laughter. She could only imagine what he was thinking.

"Oh, you don't think there is some strange relationship between all of these men and me, do you?"

Based on the reddened cheeks he was sporting only moments after her question, that was exactly what he was wondering. She knew she shouldn't laugh at his embarrassment, but it was simply too hilarious to ignore. He seemed mildly offense by her reaction at first.

"Merlin, no. Thorfinn and I might have a complicated history, but no, _no_. After Alecto attacked me and my dog, well, _Rodolphus_ , killed her, I went into hiding with Thorfinn."

"Oh."

He joined in with his own soft, sheepish chuckles. Thoughts of Antonin willingly entering into a relationship where he was expected to share the affections of his witch with two other wizards was too much for Hermione. She laughed until she could hardly breathe. Her wizard did not share.

"I guess I should apologize for hitting you with a stunner that night you and your father came looking for me," she said as soon as her giggles died down.

"What?" He was confused once again.

"The night you and your father went to the old Black house in London Thorfinn and I were there. Rodolphus bit your father, I stunned you and broke your father's wand. Rodolphus _obliviated_ you both."

"That makes perfect sense," he conceded. "That whole night felt strange. Neither one of us even remembered how we got inside the house. Father was furious that his wand was broken."

He smiled at the memory before turning back to face her with his serious expressionless mask back firmly on his features.

"I'm really glad we didn't find you."

The air in the room grew tense after his statement. Hermione didn't need an explanation of why he was thankful his father had been unable to place his hands on her. One wasn't needed. She suddenly wanted to be back downstairs in her room alone to finish her waiting. There was simply no way she would be able to sleep until Antonin returned.

"You are welcome to stay here as long as you like. We can go shopping in a Muggle store tomorrow for clothes if you would like."

"Thank you."

"Thank you again for making an unbelievably hard decision tonight. No matter what happens from now on, you have at least four fierce allies on your side."

He nodded again in her direction and Hermione moved closer to the door. With her hand on the knob she turned back around to smile at the man.

"Welcome to my harem, Theo."

His quiet laughter followed her down the staircase.

* * *

Vincent Crabbe Senior disappeared at some point the evening of October 15th. His long suffering wife reported that he usually spent Friday evenings enjoying a few pints at the Leaky with his best mate Gary. He left their Shropshire home at his usual time but never made it home. Further investigation led to the knowledge that Gary Goyle waited over three hours for him to arrive before giving up for the evening.

It was wasn't until early Saturday morning that a group of Hogwarts students led by the newly appointed Keeper of the Keys Salazar Selwyn stumbled upon the notorious Death Eater on their way to the enjoy the village for the day. The shrieks and tears of the children could be heard all the way back in the castle. Many of the traumatized youth spent the rest of the weekend in the infirmary receiving calming and sleeping draughts. Future trips to Hogsmeade were cancelled until the perpetrators of the ghastly crime were apprehended.

Reports of the condition of his body stated that the torture and subsequent murder was personal. Whoever was responsible for the vicious attack on the upstanding citizen had an obvious vendetta against the man. Every single bone in his body appeared to be broken. Deep gashes covered every inch of his stout frame. His toenails and fingernails had been ripped out one by one. His teeth were missing until an autopsy performed by one of St. Mungo's finest Healers discovered them floating around in his stomach. It was determined that some nasty spells were employed to boil his blood and melt his eyeballs while he was still alive.

There were no discernable clues as to the perpetrator's identity. All the Aurors knew is they were looking for someone with prodigious talent in Charms.

* * *

By mid-October Theo was still settling in to the routine of living in Antonin and Hermione's cottage with the others. The young wizard seemed to have difficulty in relating to the people he suddenly found himself forced to interact with on a daily basis. With the exception of a single trip to a Muggle clothing store with Hermione and Rodolphus the day after he arrived, he seemed content to spend most of his waking hours sitting outside overlooking Antonin's garden.

One way that he was able to contribute to the well-being of the group was to take over the responsibility of providing meals each day. It was a pleasant surprise to learn that he was comfortable in preparing meals and actually had a knack for the task. Theo didn't seem interested in any of their plans for moving forward in their mission. If they began discussing who was next on their list or something equally important, he would quietly stand up from wherever he was seated to simply leave the room. He was content to remain in the kitchen preparing at least two meals a day. When it was time to replenish the food supplies he would quietly visit the market in the nearest village. Usually he went by himself but occasionally he would allow someone else to accompany him if they wanted.

Hermione was concerned about him. She ignored Thorfinn's remarks about her always needing a lost cause to keep her occupied. Rodolphus and Reina were sympathetic to her need to help the young wizard, but neither of them could provide any suggestions on how to help. Antonin repeatedly assured her that Theo was all right. Just needed some time to come to grips with the stark changes in his life. He was likely still in shock. Two weeks and a witch from his school days hovering over him weren't likely to improve his sullen disposition any time soon.

Several days after the gruesome discovery of Vince's body outside of Hogwarts, Hermione lay in bed waiting for Antonin to finish his nightly shower. She was once again concerned about how withdrawn Theo was from the group. Everyone else got along splendidly. Despite their very different personalities, their little rebel group worked well together. Even Antonin and Thorfinn put aside their differences to joke around and tease Hermione together. In that aspect at least, she almost wished the two _weren't_ able to get along.

"I'm worried about Theo," she announced the moment Antonin crawled under the covers.

She could almost hear her wizard roll his eyes. This wasn't the first time they'd had this discussion. Antonin scooted closer to the center of the bed to kiss her and put his arms around her.

"You have a big heart, _daragaya_. Of course you are worried about him."

"He is just so withdrawn. He doesn't seem to want to be a part of us."

"Theo isn't like the rest of us," Antonin agreed. "He's not a killer."

Hermione sat up in bed at his words. Just what exactly was he implying?

"I am not a killer," she protested.

Antonin reached up to pull her back down to a horizontal position. She laid her head just under his chin despite her misgivings about his previous statement.

"How many did you kill at Hogwarts?"

His question was both simple and extremely complicated all at once. She tried not to keep a running tally of all of the casualties she was responsible for in the final battle. They were enemy combatants intent on not only destroying her world but killing everyone she cared about in the process. Flashes of the moment when she came upon Fenrir Greyback feasting on a dying Lavender ran through her mind. She would never regret her part in his death. Not only had he killed an eighteen year old girl just at the beginning of her life, he was responsible for ruining the lives of so many others. Remus had only been four years old when he was turned into a werewolf by the sadistic bastard. She would never forget the way he whispered to her the night she was taken captive to Malfoy Manor of everything he wished to do to her when Bellatrix finished.

" _I will make you my queen, little one. You will become just like I am. We will fuck and fight and fuck some more for the rest of our lives."_

Remembering the filthy werewolf's tongue licking the outside of her ear made Hermione shudder. Antonin tightened his grasp on her and placed an encouraging kiss on the top of her head. Instantly she relaxed. Greyback was dead and as long as Antonin was alive, he would kill anyone who tried to hurt his witch.

"That's different," she protested. "It was a battle. I was trying to protect my loved ones."

"Exactly. You are willing to kill for the ones you love. Yes, it's different than Thorfinn getting carried away when the blood is flowing or different from the way I have been able to find a perverse joy in my brutality. It's different than Rodolphus killing because he was forced to or Reina's need for revenge. You are willing to kill to protect."

Antonin dropped his hand down to caress her flat belly. His large hand lingered in the same spot, in no rush to move.

"I can only imagine how fierce and bloody terrifying you would be if you were forced to protect our child."

" _Our_ child?"

"An old man can dream."

His words surprised her more than she was willing to admit. Only once had they spoken about children. It was the morning that she brewed a year's supply of contraceptive potion in the basement. At the time he only hinted that he _might_ be interested in the future.

"Would you really want a child with me?" She tried to ask the question with a neutral tone of voice and failed miserably.

" _Lyubimaya_ , just the thought of you heavily pregnant knowing it was my child growing inside of you makes me hard."

She rolled over to brush her lips against his.

"I didn't know you felt that way," she said when their tender kiss ended.

"Of course I do. When the Dark Lord falls and this world is safe for you again, that is exactly what I want."

"That sounds lovely."

Antonin captured her lips in another kiss, this one a bit more heated than the previous.

"We could always practice until then," she suggested. "Just to make sure we don't forget what we're supposed to do when the time comes."

* * *

Several days later Hermione walked into the kitchen following a long, extra steamy shower with Antonin to find Thorfinn and Reina finishing up their breakfast at the table. Theo was nowhere to be seen and Rodolphus was likely still sleeping in. Despite being a human most of the time, he still enjoyed being lazy in front of a roaring fire.

"Good morning, Reina. I wasn't expecting you to come by today," she said as she poured herself a cup of tea.

"Sorry," Reina replied, her cheeks blushing red. "Lucius and I were having a _disagreement_ this morning and I needed to get out of the house. I miss his manor. There were plenty of places for me to hide when he annoyed me."

Hermione laughed, completely understanding the other woman's plight. She was thankful that her wizard enjoyed long walks along the beach following any of their arguments. Their cottage was too small to hold two angry people at once.

"Nothing to apologize for. You are always welcome here," countered Hermione. "Now your brother on the other hand…"

Thorfinn just smirked.

"You know you'd miss me if I left, Princess."

"Maybe, but if you don't actually _leave_ we can't test that theory out."

He simply shrugged his shoulders and laughed.

"I remember you saying about a month ago that you living here was only going to be temporary," she teased. In all honesty, she liked having the burly blonde around. He had become a close friend and even when he was being disgusting just to get a rise out of her, she enjoyed his company. Antonin tolerated his presence because he didn't like leaving Hermione alone when he was summoned. The more protectors she had, the better.

"Yes, well, I gave that a lot of thought," he admitted. "Right now the only place I really can move to would be with Lucius and Reina. At least here if someone forgets a silencing charm I know I'm not listening to my baby sister."

Reina slapped her brother on the back of his head. His indignation only made Hermione laugh. When he heard the witch snort, he turned to wink, proving he wasn't really upset.

"Hermione, let's go for a walk on the beach," Reina suggested as she rose from her chair. "I could use from fresh air and no doubt all of this testosterone you are forced to live with is stifling and choking."

Minutes later both women were bundled up in warm jackets and walking along the shoreline. Other than the one day she was conscious at Calliope Smith's house, Hermione had never really spent a lot of time alone with the other witch. She had never been able to make friends with other women very easily. Ginny Weasley was the closest she had to a best girlfriend, but even she was really only her friend because of Ron. They walked in silence for several minutes simply enjoying the peace of the empty beach.

"Is everything all right between you and Lucius?" Hermione asked.

Reina turned in her direction to smile.

"Oh, we're fine. Just close quarters, is all. You can understand, I'm sure."

"Most definitely."

"Lucius is getting frustrated with the Resistance. They aren't accomplishing as much as he would like."

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond. The Resistance was still a sore subject for her. Their rejection was still something that stung.

"Lucius is very impressed by you, by the way," Reina continued. "Between that parchment you made and the plans I've relayed to him, he thinks you have a strong head for being a rebellious traitor."

Hermione laughed when she realized Reina was simply teasing. The older witch winked as she repeated Lucius' words.

"I've always wondered about him. What is he like when he's not evil?"

It was Reina's turn to laugh.

"Wonderful, _usually_."

"I will have to take your word on that."

A renewed silence fell between the two women as they continued their trek across the sand. It was relaxing to be able to be silent in someone else's presence. This was a trait Hermione was learning to love about Antonin. Not every single moment had to be filled with inane chatter.

"I admit that I asked you to walk with me for a selfish reason," Reina admitted. "I have an agenda."

Hermione wasn't exactly surprised by her confession. Most people generally did.

"May I ask you something rather personal, Hermione? I'm _desperate_ for another woman's advice."

"Of course." Her curiosity was piqued.

"You know about my history, about what those fucking bastards did to me, right?"

Hermione nodded. She didn't trust her voice to answer the question audibly. It was simply too horrible.

"Do you think that a man can really look past something like that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Lucius assures me all of the time that he loves me and he has been nothing but supportive in my desire for revenge," explained Reina. "He has been invaluable. First with Macnair and then with Crabbe. We've already got a pretty good plan for Goyle next."

Her matter of fact tone of voice as she discussed the two men she had already tortured and murdered and the one man she had plans to unnerved Hermione just a bit. Thoughts of the conversation she had with Antonin about all of them being killers ran through her mind. In many ways, he was absolutely correct. She'd proven herself willing to murder to keep those she loved from being murdered instead. It was a different motivation than the motivation the poor girl walking only inches next to her used to commit her acts of violence. They were both capable of extreme violence if pushed.

"He tells me that he loves me and he isn't afraid to kiss me," she continued. "But he won't touch me. Not in the way that I want. Do you think that he can ever get past what I've been through? Or will he always equate my history with any intimate act that we might share?"

Hermione was at a loss on how to respond. This was a situation that she had no experience with and certainly one she hoped and prayed no other woman would be subjected to. Understanding that the other woman simply needed some support, she reached over to clasp Reina's hand in hers. Reina squeezed her hand before bursting into tears. Their height difference made Hermione's embrace of the sobbing woman a bit awkward, but she didn't seem to mind.

"I'm afraid that he will never be able to see me as anything but a victim," Reina admitted, her voice heavy with grief.

"I don't think that's true. You've said yourself he tells you that he loves you and kisses you. He may just be trying to give you enough time to heal first. Lucius is likely just being kind."

"I don't want him to be kind! I want him naked!"

Reina's comment was exactly what the two witches needed to break the tension. Instead of tears, they began laughing. They ended their embrace to allow them both to wipe the combined tears of sadness and mirth from their eyes.

"Yes, well, I can't really blame you for wanting that," replied Hermione. "Lucius is a very attractive man."

"Oh, you have no idea! When he first wakes up in the morning and his perfect hair is all mussed, I just want to keep him like that forever."

"Maybe Lucius is simply waiting for you to find some closure with your attackers first."

Reina nodded her head in agreement. It certainly made sense. They resumed their walk down the beach. Miss Rowle seemed anxious to change the subject after a few minutes of silence.

"How is living with Thorfinn going?" she asked. "He's not the easiest person to live with."

"It's going all right. No major issues. Still a bit weird at times."

"When my brother falls, he falls hard."

Hermione stopped in her tracks. Reina turned around to face her, ready to challenge her response if necessary.

"Yes, well, I still am not entirely positive that Thorfinn knows what he wants," Hermione responded.

Reina seemed satisfied with her answer.

"There was some girl from Ravenclaw his sixth year that he was absolutely mad about. Charlotte something. He wanted to marry her, but something happened at the very beginning of his seventh year that ended their relationship. He always got embarrassed when I asked what happened."

Hermione became very interested in the sand at her feet. She had a suspicion of what caused his relationship with Charlotte to end. No doubt being caught giving her boyfriend oral sex in the middle of the library by a twelve year old put a damper on their rapport. If she had been in the poor girl's shoes, she imagined she wouldn't want to be reminded of that moment every time she was in her boyfriend's presence.

"Then in an attempt to get over Charlotte he started shagging that cow Calliope."

"Unfortunately, I remember that all too well."

"I want my brother to be happy, Hermione. Maybe him living here isn't the best idea."

Once again she couldn't argue with the woman. She had had similar concerns in the almost month since he'd moved in to her attic. Despite his incessant teasing about the adult activity he knew was taking place in her bedroom with Antonin, Hermione could tell Thorfinn was bothered by their relationship. Sometimes she would catch him staring at her with an almost wistful expression on his face. It made her sad.

"I'm freezing my arse off. Let's go back inside," Reina suggested.

The cottage was still fairly quiet when the women returned. Antonin had plans to run into London for some errands later that morning, so Hermione wasn't startled to find him missing. Once again Theo was nowhere to be found, likely hidden upstairs in the attic. Rodolphus and Thorfinn were both seated on the large sofa in the living room reading. It was obvious that they had been having a heated discussion. Hermione peeked over Rodolphus' shoulder to see that he was reading a rather old potions book.

"Ahh, Hermione, just in time," the animagus said when they walked through the front door. "Thorfinn and I were just debating the pros and cons of using polyjuice potion in our quest to rid the world of evil."

Thorfinn snorted at his turn of phrase.

"It's too complicated," Thorfinn declared. "We can't just go into an apothecary and purchase the potion. It's controlled by the Ministry."

"That's why I'm suggesting that we learn to brew it," countered Rodolphus. "Yes, it's a complicated formula, but think how useful it would be in our reconnaissance missions."

"I'm not arguing that point with you. It would be helpful. I just simply don't believe we are capable of producing it on our own."

Hermione enjoyed watching their disagreement. Both men could get animated when provoked. It was all the more amusing because she _knew_ how to brew polyjuice potion. Their argument was unnecessary.

"I actually have experience brewing polyjuice potion," she loudly announced when the two wizards' voices began to rise to uncomfortably loud levels. "I've done so successfully in the past."

Reina laughed when both men stopped arguing to stare at Hermione with open mouths. They were both obviously impressed by the knowledge she had just shared.

"Do you see what I mean, my dear?" Rodolphus asked with a giant grin across his handsome face. "You are a woman of many talents. Cooking need not be one of them."

"Have I told you that you're my favorite?"

With a chuckle she leaned down to kiss Rodolphus on the top of his head. It was a display of affection she'd done a thousand times when he was still in his canine form. Somehow it still felt normal when he was a wizard. The animagus joined her in her chuckles.

"Is that all I have to do to get my belly scratched too?" Thorfinn joked. "Just compliment you on your many _talents_?"

"It couldn't hurt," Hermione answered.

Thorfinn raised a single eyebrow and smirked.

"Which talents should I compliment you on? I am _intimately_ aware of several."

Hermione and Reina both reached across the couch to slap him in the back of his head.

"Oi! I don't need you both ganging up on me."

"Then stop being so disgusting, big brother."

Thorfinn actually began to sulk like a petulant child at his sister's admonishment. The expression on his face was almost adorable.

"It's not my fault that neither one of them can perform a proper silencing spell," he muttered.

"We don't forget them!" Hermione made certain that their room had silencing spells on most of the time following the embarrassing events of their first night in the cottage with Thorfinn.

"He's not wrong. You should reinforce the spell on the ceiling. That seems to be the weakest point."

Hermione jumped when she heard Theo's quiet voice behind her. She hadn't even heard him walk down the stairs. Sometimes his ability to move about the cottage without making a sound was discomforting. Knowing that Thorfinn was telling the truth and the two men that slept above their bedroom could hear what was going on below them made Hermione want to crawl underneath a rock. How embarrassing! Thorfinn seemed mollified by Theo's support which only proved to infuriate Hermione even further.

"I'm headed to the market," Theo announced. "Does anyone need anything?"

Hermione begged him to take her with him. She wanted to get away from the massive blonde that seemed to live to tease and harass. Theo was obviously reluctant as he usually was when someone wanted to accompany him, but he didn't say 'no'. After a quick embrace with Reina, she followed Theo out the front door.

The alley they Apparated in to smelled strongly of old fish. Skinny, mean cats hissed at their sudden appearance. For a brief moment, Hermione wondered why she ever thought she liked cats better than dogs. Crookshanks was the exception.

"Here, take half the list. It'll be faster that way."

Theo didn't even give her the chance to argue before pushing a ripped piece of parchment in her hands. He walked quickly out of the alley towards the front of the store. With a heavy sigh, she followed behind. The proprietor of the small market waved in greeting the moment she passed the threshold. He was a friendly sort who always asked impertinent questions when she was standing in the checkout line.

Her section of the list consisted mostly of fresh produce. Suddenly wishing she hadn't asked to accompany the surly wizard on his shopping excursion, Hermione rushed towards the produce section with a small basket in hand. She was examining the tomatoes when she heard her name spoken just behind her.

"It _is_ you," the familiar voice said when she rotated around quickly enough to knock several potatoes off a nearby display with her basket. "I'd recognize that mess you call hair anywhere."

Of all the people she expected to run into in a small Muggle market in Cornwall, Cormac McLaggen was one of the last. The wizard leaned against the tomato table with a familiar smirk on his face. Despite her desire not to, Hermione's mind began playing snippets of her past relationship with Cormac from her sixth year. Her cheeks flushed at certain memories that she _never_ shared with anyone. None of her friends were aware that there was a great deal more to her acquaintance with McLaggen than simply attending Slughorn's Christmas Party. Harry was too busy with horcruxes and Ron too busy with Lavender to know about the many slips in her judgment that year when it came to the obnoxious seventh year.

"I think about you a lot, Hermione," Cormac whispered directly into her ear. She tried to move away from him but his hand grasped her arm. "We used to have some good times together, didn't we?"

"That was another lifetime ago."

Cormac's soft laughter and hot breath made Hermione's entire body erupt into goosebumps. She didn't know why she was so ill at ease around the fellow Gryffindor. His usual arrogant demeanor didn't make the interaction any easier to withstand.

"Oh, that's right. I hear you've got a thing for Death Eaters now. I can see that. You always seemed like the type to like a little danger. Godric knows you always preferred it a little rough."

Hermione tried to push past the horrible man. She could feel hot tears forming in her eyes and he was the last person she wanted to see her cry. Her obvious discomfort only made him laugh. He stepped his burly frame in front of her, effectively pinning her against the display. There was no way for her to move away.

"My arm is unmarked so I guess I don't have a shot anymore. Oh, well. See you around, Granger."

Cormac exited the store moments later without making a single purchase. It was almost as if he were simply in the market to intimidate her for some purpose she didn't understand. Nothing about the experience made any sense at all. Why was he there? Did he see her emerge from the alley and decide to follow her in to be a pest? She certainly wouldn't put it past him, but the entire interaction reeked of some nefarious agenda. Whatever just happened she had the innate sense that she needed to never tell Antonin. She wasn't sure what he would do if he found out about the strange visit to the shop.

Hermione rushed through the store to throw all of the items on her list in her basket. She didn't want Theo to be suspicious or worse, annoyed, with her being so slow. When she finally reached the front of the store he was patiently waiting for her with his own basket.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concern etched over his entire face. "Something wrong?"

She waved him off with a false smile. Theo wasn't convinced, but chose not to press the issue. When they exited the store, the owner waved again and practically begged them to return again.

* * *

In an almost identical repeat of the weekend before, Salazar Selwyn stumbled upon the mutilated corpse of Gary Goyle on the morning of Saturday, October 23rd. The village of Hogsmeade was in a panic when the Department of Magical Law Enforcement descended on their town to canvas the area for clues and potential witnesses. Once more there seemed to be no suspects in the case. The Aurors were at a loss.

Reina Rowle arrived at the cottage the following afternoon with a market bag full of ingredients to make all of her brother's favorite dishes for Sunday lunch. The inhabitants of the cottage were a bit taken aback by the extremely good mood she seemed to be in. As she moved around the tiny kitchen humming to herself, Hermione suspected that Lucius finally believed that Reina had been able to find adequate closure.

* * *

 _Author's Notes: Thank you to all of my wonderful reviewers and everyone who follows or has favorite this story! You are all awesome and really inspire me to keep at this silly little story of mine. : ) Because of the upcoming holiday and lots of family coming in to town, my next update may be a little delayed. I apologize in advance. Not to worry, however, I have been faithfully outlining the remainder of this story. We are getting closer to the end, but I can't even begin to provide an estimate of how many chapters left to expect. I'm getting the feeling that this will be longer than_ The Silver Mage's Captive _at least by a little bit._

 _Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates the holiday!_


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty Two

In the five months since he swept Hermione out of Rabastan's manor to live in the solitude of their private cottage, Antonin had forgotten how much he bloody hated sitting in Rabastan's study drinking whiskey with the wizard. Once upon a time before he was able to capture his beloved, feisty little witch in Inverness, he spent more evenings than not seated in a deep leather armchair staring off into the roaring fire lost in thought. It used to be peaceful until he learned firsthand there were better ways to spend an evening than being forced to listen to the younger Lestrange brother prattle on about witches and topics he had no interest in.

"If I may be so bold, Mrs. Lestrange looks quite beautiful in her current condition," declared Salazar Selwyn between loud gulps of Rabastan's finest fire whiskey.

Antonin couldn't prevent his eyes from rolling at the imbecile's statement of Isla Lestrange's fecundity. The thought of Rabastan and that horrible woman he was forced into marrying with the oldest trick in the book, made his eyes itch and his stomach gurgle. Their progeny was likely to be as horrible as its parents with the potential to be even more atrocious. That was enough of a concern to give Antonin the briefest of fantasies of moving forward in his rebel group's plan of pushing Rabastan up to the top of the list.

He knew that Hermione was reluctant to move Rodolphus' little brother up in their hit list. She would never admit it openly, of course, but he knew her well enough by then to recognize her disinclination. While she would never admit to harboring any kind of tender feelings for the disgusting wizard, Antonin knew she had some gratitude for the months she spent living in the man's manor. Rabastan's own brother was anxious to dispatch his relative. Frequently during planning sessions the animagus became heated in his desire to rid the world of the bane of his existence.

Their history together was an unhappy one that Antonin struggled to understand. He'd spent his life wishing and imagining that his little brother Mikhail had not died. At only two years old his brother contracted a rare form of Cerebrumous Spattergroit that not even the finest Healers in the country or abroad could cure. He spent his last three months lying in the isolation ward at St. Mungo's with no memory of who he was. Antonin was eight when his father sat him down to explain that his brother would not be coming home. It had been the single worst day of his entire life. To be around two brothers who not only hated each other, but actively wished the other dead was not something he felt he could ever understand. He would give his wand arm and his left bollock to be able to still have his little brother around.

"Thank you, Sal. It was rather a large surprise," Rabastan replied, knocking back the entire glass of whiskey in his hand with a pained expression on his face. "I would've rather waited a little longer before we started adding to the family."

The terrified expression on his face amused Antonin greatly. There were rumors and jokes that floated around all of the Death Eaters about Rabastan's forced marriage and his insane wife. Those who were old enough to remember Eleanor Fawley from Hogwarts liked to laugh behind his back. None of them were surprised that her daughter had been able to trap him into a marriage with an unplanned pregnancy. Nor were they surprised to find out that the bint was a couple of sandwiches shy of a picnic. Antonin thought it appropriate that Rabastan's todger had finally gotten him into a situation he couldn't talk his way out of.

"Speaking of lovely witches," Rabastan said to Antonin in an effort to deflect the conversation from his shrew of a wife. "Where is the lovely Hermione this evening? I've been missing her."

His wink infuriated the older wizard. Privately on several occasions Rodolphus had taken Antonin aside to provide more details of the incidents of his younger brother trying to catch Hermione alone when they still lived in the manor. The man's scope and ingenuity in seeking her out went far beyond any of Antonin's expectations. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that given half a chance, Rabastan would still be interested in getting to know Hermione even more intimately. Rodolphus admitted that following the evening where Rabastan and the others stumbled upon Hermione and Thorfinn _in flagrante delicto_ that his brother's efforts to catch her alone had increased. No doubt he was excited by what he'd seen and wanted to experience it for himself. More than once he made suggestions to Antonin to place Hermione under the Imperius Curse. He had no doubts at all that given half the opportunity Rabastan would've placed his witch under the curse and modified her memory afterwards.

"She is at home recovering from a cold," Antonin lied. Hermione was feeling just fine and likely in the middle of another planning session with the other members of their group. She outright laughed in Antonin's face when he asked if she wanted to accompany him to dinner at the manor that evening. "She sends her regrets."

"Poor thing," tutted Rabastan. "I hope it's not your drafty old cottage that is making her ill."

The conversation in the room switched to a more serious topic moments later when Rabastan came to the conclusion that Antonin was not going to take the bait. Antonin was content, or as content as he possibly could be in that house, to sit back and listen as the three other men in the room talked. With Rabastan's usual comrades dropping like flies, he'd been forced to scrape the bottom of the barrel to find his newest dining companion. Sal Selwyn was overjoyed to have been finally invited to a more personal dinner with the Lestrange heir. His exuberance had been the subject of several private and silent jokes between Antonin and Charles Yaxley all evening. They simply had to quirk an eyebrow in the other's direction to make the other laugh at his expense.

"What is the official number of missing Death Eaters now?" Sal asked.

"Fifteen missing and seven confirmed dead," Yaxley answered.

As the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Charles had been in charge of the investigations into the missing Death Eaters. His department had already been hitting brick wall after brick wall regarding the ones found dead. Every day it seemed that one less of their ranks could be found. The Dark Lord was forced to tap into the special charm he placed on every single Dark Mark to determine which ones were dead. More often than not, the missing were unable to be tracked.

Antonin wished that he could take responsibility for all of the missing Death Eaters, but he couldn't. He was certain that the _other_ rebel group was the group to take credit for many of the disappearances. They had grown more aggressive in the weeks following the brutal murders of Crabbe and Goyle. If they hadn't hurt his witch so badly, Antonin might have even been a little proud of the Resistance finally growing some stones to make the hard decisions. No longer were coordinated explosions that did nothing but frighten enough to fight this kind of war.

"My aunt's been struggling since her boy was found killed," announced Sal.

Marcus Flint had been the first one killed following Reina's insatiable lust for revenge against her attackers. Hermione wasn't surprised to find that the Slytherin Quidditch Captain had been recruited in the years following his leaving school. She was of the opinion that the cretin thrived on cruelty and agony. There were stories told in whispers around the castle during his years at Hogwarts of the pain he inflicted on the poor girls who were foolish enough to accept an invitation to spend an evening alone with him. No one could ever provide any proof of his perversions. He was extremely proficient in Healing charms. His failed Healing apprenticeship following school provided him with even more abilities in that area.

Thorfinn had never been able to stand the kid. They were in the same House for a few years at the same time and more than once had conflicts. His known depravity was enough to give Thorfinn the motivation to take care of him. Following his sister's attacks he was less sympathetic to those that used sexual violence to overpower women. While Marcus wasn't on the top of their hit list to begin with, a report passed on to them from the Resistance by Lucius through Reina detailed a horrific attack against two daughters from a respectable Pureblood Ravenclaw family that curdled their stomachs. Flint had to be stopped before he struck again.

He kept the same routine each Tuesday night when he wasn't summoned to a mission for the Dark Lord. Thorfinn remembered being invited on more than one occasion to meet Flint and several of the other junior Death Eaters for drinks at the Three Broomsticks on Tuesday nights. Flint enjoyed drinking too much and sexually harassing the attractive Madam Rosmerta. To her great relief, there were many present who had nothing but respect for the proprietor of the pub they'd been visiting since their third year at Hogwarts who would never allow Flint to get too carried away.

It was simply a matter of waiting for Flint to leave the safety of the pub alone. Thorfinn stayed huddled in the shadows, thankful for the early setting of the sun at that time of year. Usually after his fifth or sixth glass of fire whiskey Flint would be thrown out of the pub by one of his comrades for disrespecting the beloved member of the Hogsmeade community. The young wizard was stumbling through the rain before midnight. Thorfinn simply placed a compulsion spell on Flint to encourage him to enter the alley behind the pub. One simple _Avada_ later, the detested former Chaser was dead, face down in a puddle. There were no witnesses.

"I was saddened to hear about poor Viola Richmond," added Rabstan. "I'm sure Antonin was saddened as well."

"And so was about half the male Death Eaters under sixty," retorted Charles with a snort in his glass.

Antonin rolled his eyes and swallowed the rest of his glass. Of course Rabastan would've been saddened by the death of one of the few actually pretty female Death Eaters. Viola was as close to an ex-girlfriend as Antonin possessed apart from Anna. In the months following his first escape from Azkaban, he'd been introduced to the painfully young witch fresh out of Hogwarts by a few of the other followers of the Dark Lord. She was an expected recruit from a family of staunch supporters. He must have represented some kind of dark and dangerous fantasy to the girl because the moment they met, she wasn't interested in anyone else. They went out a few times before the debacle of the Department of Mysteries if one could really consider hours of almost acrobatic sex a real date. He had fourteen years of forced celibacy to make up for after all. They were actually supposed to meet up the night he was arrested again. By the time he was broken out of Azkaban for a second time, Viola had moved on to about half a dozen other Death Eaters.

While not a terribly violent follower, Miss Richmond was an easy target. Rodolphus had grown up with her parents and at one time had considered her father his best mate. They were in the same year together and both were Sorted into Slytherin. He knew her parents' house almost as well as he knew his own. All it took was waiting in the right place under a Disillusionment charm for her to return home. It had been a little difficult for the wizard to kill the young woman. He had almost been named her godfather after all, but he was resolute in his desire to further their agenda. Viola Richmond was found early the next morning by her family's house elf lying in a puddle of her own blood just outside the gates to their estate.

Morale within the ranks of the Death Eaters took a giant hit when she was killed. Antonin was surprised to see the extent of her influence on the others. Apparently there were plenty that enjoyed her company outside of the confines of the bedroom as well. She was a well-liked, vivacious young witch who seemed to have a bright future ahead of her. It was a harsh blow to those left behind.

"Can you believe everything that happened at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop the other day?" Sal asked the assembled group.

"No, I cannot. What a disaster," answered Rabastan. "I always had a suspicion that sweet Edana was a bit unhinged. I mean, she has been lusting after Jugson for how many years? That shows a distinct lack of taste."

Antonin hid his smirk inside another full glass of Rabastan's premium whiskey. It was rare that he found himself actually _proud_ of Thorfinn Rowle, but his work in Hogsmeade only days earlier had been worthy of praise.

"And poor Madam Puddifoot," added Sal. "She has always been such a sweet witch."

"Collateral damage," Charles said, his own smirk highly visible.

The man's distaste for the tea shop proprietor was legendary. Something about his wife being snubbed when they were dating. Antonin couldn't remember the entire story. Suffice it to say, Charles Yaxley was one of the few who openly reveled in the fact that the elderly witch was pulled into the events that ended one of the few seemingly successful Death Eater and Death Eater relationships in existence.

Edana Whatever-Her-Last-Name-Was (Antonin could never trouble himself to care enough to find out) was a bit of a contradiction. She was a woman who was eager to prove herself within the Death Eater ranks by completing risky and brutal missions. Possessing a modicum of intelligence, she tried to prove herself to be ruthless with enemies. With her paramour, however, she longed to be seen as soft, docile, and submissive. She tried to pretend that despite the mark branded on her left forearm that she was simply a woman who enjoyed the company of her wizard.

To further this image of herself, Edana forced Jugson to meet her once a week at the renowned tea shop owned by Madam Puddifoot. Antonin always had to suppress a laugh at the thought of the bumbling wizard adrift in a sea of pink doilies. The couple would enjoy a couple of pots of tea and numerous decadent confections while Jugson pretended that his witch was another simpering fool on a Hogsmeade Saturday. Rumors of her impressive skills in the bedroom were pervasive amongst the male Death Eaters. How else could she convince the man to endure such inanity once a week?

Thorfinn and Rodolphus snuck into Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop the night before the weekly date was to take place. They hid themselves in the back office gorging themselves on pink and yellow petit fours while they waited for the proprietor to open up the shop the next morning. A simple Imperius Curse cast on the elderly woman by Thorfinn ensured that the pot of tea that served to Jugson was adulterated with a rather fast-acting and nasty poison. Within moments of imbibing the Earl Grey, Jugson was vomiting blood. He exsanguinated in less than a minute. Enraged by her lover's death, Edana went on a violent rampage within in the shop. Madam Puddifoot was killed with a nasty Entrail-Expelling Curse that coated the lace and silk in a nasty shade of viscera. Before the slow-acting poison placed in her own pot of Chamomile took effect, Edana had most of the shop reduced to pieces.

It had been a scandal that they were all still reeling from. Initial investigation by the Aurors in Yaxley's department determined that both of the Death Eaters had been poisoned. Finding the owner of the shop in such a state coupled with the opened packets of poison in her private office made for a simple case closed. There were speculations on why the usually passive witch poisoned two of her best and most dangerous customers, but the truth of her actions died with her.

Hermione had been a bit miffed to find out that the woman was killed. Thorfinn was unapologetic. He shared story after story of how Madam Puddifoot was a known Death Eater supporter. There were acts she committed while Hermione was still travelling the countryside with her two best friends hunting horcruxes that Antonin had never heard before. The moment the young blonde wizard explained to the girl that Madam Puddifoot was known for placing powders in the teacups of Muggleborns that caused them to spend hours in the bathroom in agony, she stopped feeling so sorry for the woman. She was grateful that she'd never been dragged to the horrid woman's shop in the past.

"Should we be concerned about the rebels?" Rabastan asked the group, focusing particularly on Yaxley.

"There is always a concern about Resistance activities when a country has been conquered," Charles answered. "I won't lie to you all. This is a highly organized group of rabble we are up against. They've proven that with their activities at the Umbridge Home and then at Azkaban. We can't simply ignore them any longer."

"Do you believe that we are personally in danger?" Sal inquired with a sickened expression on his countenance.

"You found two mangled bodies of your comrades just by walking out of the gates of the school, Sal," Antonin replied. "I should think that it was obvious that we all need to be more careful and aware of our surroundings."

Charles smirked at Antonin's response.

"Antonin is correct," he agreed. "We are all potential victims. We should not forget that."

Their evening ended soon after their discussion. Isla Lestrange burst into the study to scream at and humiliate her husband of less than three months. As much enjoyment as Antonin got out of watching the man cringe while the woman shouted, he had better things to do with his time. Sal was expected back at the school before midnight to close the gates. His new position granted to him after the disappearance of Macnair was one of great responsibility. It was indicative of the lack of suitable candidates available that he was given the position. Charles and Antonin said their good evenings to the unhappy newlyweds before escaping out into the cool night air.

They were only feet from the main gates when Antonin felt a firm hand on his arm stop his forward progression. Charles had a serious expression on his features that could not be ignored. Despite knowing the man for years, he couldn't help but feel a little nervous by the determination that he could see in the man's eyes.

"I've been watching you, Antonin," he admitted.

Antonin struggled to keep his face impassive, his mask secure. Yaxley was an observant man. He had to be in his position within the Ministry of Magic.

"I just wanted to let you know that the moment _you_ have need of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Charles continued. "It would be made available to you."

His emphasis on the word 'you' was surprising. It was as if he was trying to convey a wealth of hidden meaning in his word usage. Antonin could only imagine what the man was trying to say.

"I have a gesture of goodwill to prove to you that my offer is legitimate."

Charles removed a purple beaded bag from the pocket of his robes. He pushed it into Antonin's hand.

"This belongs to your witch, I believe."

Hermione once described her beaded bag to Antonin in great detail. She was lamenting the loss of several books she had hidden in the confines of the small accessory. He struggled to believe that she was able to keep as much as she did wrapped up in a single bag. Antonin stared at the small bag for several seconds before opening it. One glance inside proved once again that his witch was extraordinary.

"There are at least a dozen illegal books in there," Charles explained. "I could have given her a life sentence in Azkaban for those alone. Add in the fact that she has at least three basilisk fangs, another controlled and highly suspicious item, and at least half a dozen vials of controlled potions, she could've been in serious trouble."

"Why are you giving this to me?"

"Everything is still in the bag," Charles continued, ignoring Antonin's question. "When she was brought in to the Ministry the night she was captured, Auror Savage handed over this bag to me personally. I inspected it by myself and never once allowed anyone else access. It has been kept in a locked safe in my office ever since. No one else knows the access spells."

"And again, why are you giving this to me?"

"I'm hoping that you will accept it as proof that if my department's assistance is required, you will ask for it."

Charles Yaxley nodded once in Antonin's direction before he slipped through the gates. His pop of Disapparation echoed through the night air. Antonin remained standing in the same spot for several minutes just staring at the small bag in his hands and dwelling on Charles' words. Was he implying that he knew Antonin was involved in something he was interested in joining? Was he aware that there was a small group taking out the Death Eaters one by one? Was he implying that everyone in his department, from the Aurors to the secretaries, would be available for his use if required?

His words still rang through Antonin's ears when he appeared just outside his front door. Hermione was waiting for him in the living room. She appeared to be alone. She was stretched out on the sofa with a large book propped up on her stomach. The moment he opened the front door, she was off the furniture ready to greet her wizard with a kiss.

"Are you all right?" she asked when his greeting was less enthusiastic than she hoped.

Instead of coming right out and answering her question with words, Antonin pushed the beaded bag into her hand. One look at what she was holding was all it took for the woman to gasp in surprise. She crossed the room to a side table to upend the bag. Books, clothing, trinkets, vials of potions, galleons, knuts, herbs, photographs, basilisk fangs and an assortment of other items crashed onto the surface of the furniture. With tears running down her cheeks and a soft smile on her lips, Hermione took stock of everything in front of her.

"Where on Earth did you get this?" she asked when she was convinced that everything was still there.

"Yaxley."

Her brown eyes widened in surprise at the mention of the man's name. While they had always been unfailingly polite when their paths crossed at Rabastan's manor, she was not overly fond of the man. They had a bit of a history during the war that made for some lingering unpleasant feelings. It was because of him that their safe house in London was exposed. Hermione often wondered how different that year would've been if they had been able to stay in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place for the duration.

"He gave it to me as a 'gesture of goodwill'," Antonin explained. "Said that if there ever came a time that they were needed, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would be available."

"Are you saying that he has offered his assistance?"

Her raised eyebrows made it very clear that she was skeptical of any assistance offered by Charles Yaxley and any of his cronies in the DMLE. Antonin couldn't blame her for her skepticism. It had not even been a full year since she was held in one of the Ministry holding cells awaiting a fake trial. The DMLE's employees had turned a blind eye to the madwoman who tortured the helpless prisoner in her cell. Trusting Yaxley was not going to be an easy task.

"I don't know how much he knows, but yes, it definitely sounded as if he was willing to help us."

"Forgive me if I don't automatically believe everything the man says."

Antonin wrapped his arms around his witch. His lips brushed against hers in a gesture of comfort and understanding. He wasn't going to argue the point with her then. There would be plenty of time later if they found they had use for Yaxley to convince her that that was the right course of action. He remained cautiously optimistic.

"Where is everyone?" he asked in an effort to change the subject.

"Rodolphus is off gathering fluxweed for the polyjuice potion. It has to be picked during a full moon," she answered. "He wouldn't let me go with him because he has to go to an area where werewolves are known to gather. He's not vulnerable to their bite if he transforms into a dog. Thorfinn dragged Theo off to some Muggle pub. Said that the man needed to blow off some steam and maybe a good shag."

She rolled her eyes at Thorfinn's suggestion.

"So you were alone?" His voice dipped down to a husky whisper.

"Rod put up some extra wards before he left to make certain I stayed safe," she answered, missing his point entirely.

Antonin tightened his grip on his witch. He lowered his lips to the outside of her ear.

"So _we're_ alone?"

The grin that spread across her mouth proved that she was on the same page at last. Hermione grasped his hand in hers to drag him off to the quiet of their bedroom. With none of their unintended roommates there for the foreseeable future, silencing charms were forgotten.

* * *

By the middle of November the Dark Lord and his forces were growing ever more nervous. Not that they were actively admitting their fear of the rebel forces and the loss of their fellows. They continued to rule with an iron fist. Suspected rebels who were caught were subjected to cruel and harsh penalties. It seemed to Antonin that the world was becoming an even more dangerous place to live in. He hoped that this was similar to a bad illness where one got much sicker before the road to recovery fully began.

He was summoned to the Dark Lord's presence one dreary, rainy evening closer to the end of the month than the beginning. Trekking through the freezing rain even with a warming charm and a water repellant charm was miserable. By the time he arrived at the Entrance Hall he was surprised to be met by Sal Selwyn. The pompous Pureblood was overly proud of his duties and took great joy in reminding everyone who would listen how important he believed he now was.

"The Dark Lord is expecting you in his office," Sal announced after shaking Antonin's hand.

Every time that Antonin saw his master he was aware that the wizard was even weaker than he had been before. Full meetings with all Death Eaters were no longer conducted. A select few of the Inner Circle met privately with the Dark Lord and dispersed his orders to the more junior members. His constant state of ever-worsening weakness was the worst kept secret in the castle. Although he would never admit so aloud, not even to the curly haired vixen that shared his bed, Antonin firmly believed that the end was near for his master.

Antonin had been pushing for their group to speed up their efforts. It had become glaringly obvious that the _other_ rebel group had taken a page out of their handbook and been kidnapping and killing Death Eaters. Part of Antonin was genuinely surprised that he hadn't yet been approached in a dark alley by Shacklebolt or that Weasley brat with the fucked up face. They had a personal vendetta against him. He half-expected them to attack every time he left his cottage. Maybe they believed that with his death their former Golden Gryffindor Princess might come to her senses. It was a fear he shared with no one.

Reina had been vehement in her desire to get the two rebel groups to merge or at least cooperate. As Lucius' partner, she had a unique perspective about the other group. She knew from her wizard what they were trying to accomplish. Her naivety at times was astounding. How she could sincerely expect the two groups to work together was beyond Antonin. Hermione didn't understand it either. She was as firmly against seeking the aid of the others as he was.

"Absolutely not, Reina!" Hermione had raged. "We will _not_ have anything to do with those who want nothing to do with us!"

Antonin had rarely been prouder of his witch. It pained him to know that her vociferous exception to the Resistance was due to the still lingering pain they caused her when they rejected her inclusion in their group. He wished to cause pain to anyone who dared hurt his witch.

He sped up his steps towards the Headmaster's Office. The Dark Lord would be made aware by the castle's wards the moment that he crossed onto the ground. He would be expecting Antonin to arrive quickly. As he climbed the staircase he thought about the passionate woman waiting for him at home. She had been extra nervous this evening when his arm burned. For whatever reason, she believed that this would be the night that their secret was uncovered. He did his best to reassure her in the mere seconds he had before he had to Apparate away. His last sight of the woman was of Rodolphus stepping up to wrap a comforting arm around her shoulders. He could be certain that the elder wizard would do whatever he could in his power to calm Hermione and assure her that they were all safe.

"Good evening, Antonin."

The Dark Lord's warm greeting immediately put Antonin at ease. He had years of experience gauging the wizard's moods. Even as he began the steady down spiral into madness, he still retained many of his former attributes. Antonin knelt in front of his master to kiss the hem of his robes.

"I wished to speak to you alone, Antonin, because I have entrusted you with an important task."

"I live to serve, my Lord."

"Yes, you do. You have always been one of my most loyal followers. That has never escaped my notice."

 _If you only knew…_

"Is your captive secure?"

"Yes, my Lord. She is safe."

"Excellent. Please ensure that she stays that way."

"Yes, my Lord."

His master gestured for him to rise up from his knees. Antonin carefully rose, thankful for the respite. He was getting too old to spend a lot of time on his knees.

"I am needing your assistance on a rather large project, Antonin."

"Of course, my Lord. As you command."

"We have been fortunate to find a spy within the rebel forces."

Antonin felt his stomach clench at the news. All at once he was thankful that he and Hermione had both rejected Reina's idea to join forces. If they had contacted the Resistance, their spy could've blown his cover. He took a deep breath and struggled to keep a passive expression on his face until he calmed down.

"This spy has been rather valuable," the Dark Lord continued. "We have been given excellent intel on planned raids and safe houses. They have been extremely thorough and the next part of our plan is under way."

He was desperate for information in what the plan was his master was talking about. There had been hints for months, but nothing concrete. A niggling feeling in the back of his mind worried that this plan might be what the Dark Lord had been saving Hermione for. He never gave any indication of why he needed Hermione alive and protected.

"I would like you to go down into the dungeons with Salazar. He is waiting for you at the bottom of the staircase. He knows what I wish you to see."

Antonin bowed before his master once more before rushing out of the Headmaster's Office. Trips down to the dungeon were not usually joyful affairs. As he bounced down the stairs taking two at once, he reminded himself to take deep, calming breaths. If the worst case scenario took place this night and he was not able to return to his witch, he was confident that there were three men who would protect her in his absence. Two he was certain would give their lives to do so. If he counted on Reina, which he knew he could, he felt that Hermione had minimum one more ally. Lucius _might_ be counted on, but he didn't want to depend on the hated wizard where his beloved was concerned.

"You might want to put an additional warming charm on before we head down," Sal suggested when they met up at the bottom of the spiral staircase. "It is bloody miserable down there."

"What is going on?"

"Easier to show you than to explain."

The two men walked in silence the rest of the way down to the Entrance Hall. When they made it to the entrance to the dungeons, Sal cast a warming charm on both of them before opening the door. They travelled down the dungeon stairs and through the lesser used section of the subterranean level of the castle for several minutes without saying a word. Antonin had a sinking feeling the further they got away from the front door of the castle. He knew where they were going even if he'd never had the misfortune of being there himself.

Their destination was a rarely used wing of the dungeons that had not been used much for centuries. He'd once assumed that the term 'dungeons' was used loosely until his mum bought him his first copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ in his third year. After thoroughly devouring the book, he learned that there were cells hidden in the bowels of the castle where enemies of the school used to be kept. Rumors of torture and execution chambers were believed to be exaggerated.

Sal pushed open a heavy wooden door with a cut out window framed with bars. The area was as freezing as his comrade complained of it being. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Antonin could make out a series of small cells. He could count as many as ten before they were too far off in the distance to be certain. He had a sick feeling in his gut that this was where poor Reina had spent those hellacious weeks with her now-deceased attackers while her brother was locked up in the cell next door.

"We've got him locked up in this third cell."

Antonin was led to a dingy cell where a man was seated on a thin mattress on the floor. He was covered in blood that was still running from a fresh cut on his head. At the sound of the two Death Eaters' approach, the captive looked up and locked eyes with Antonin. He seemed familiar to Antonin, but couldn't place him. Just as he was about to ask Sal just who in the fuck this man was, Sal made some excuse about needing to run upstairs to the Dark Lord. Antonin was too curious about what he had just been brought to to follow.

"Who are you?" Antonin demanded.

The captive laughed until the act caused him to grip his side. He obviously had at least one cracked rib.

"I'm not surprised you don't recognize me," he answered. "I'm afraid the last time we were face to face I didn't make much of an impression on you."

"When did we last meet?"

"Azkaban. I was able to send one, maybe two curses in your direction before you knocked me out."

"You're Shacklebolt's…"

"Partner. Lover. Reason for being."

Even with blood still actively flowing down the side of his face, Ryan Sloane was able to smile and wink at Antonin while answering. The younger wizard introduced himself formally, even sticking a shaky hand out through the bars of his cell for a proper handshake. His exceptionally polite behavior was both amusing and annoying to Antonin.

"I've actually been meaning to thank you for cursing me at Azkaban. I'm one hundred percent positive that you actually saved my life that night. Or at the very least, my soul."

Ryan's words were surprising. Antonin wasn't even able to formulate a response before the wizard laughed and began to explain what he meant.

"I'd been partnered with a wizard named Seamus Finnegan for the duration of the battle," he explained. "Hermione knew him well. They were both Gryffindors and in the same year together. Seamus and I were supposed to be by each other's side the entire battle, but I got distracted when I saw Bill Weasley engaged in a duel with you. I got the feeling that he might not be able to walk away from a seasoned Death Eater such as yourself.

"When I saw Kings running towards you both, I knew I had to stop and help. I rushed off to assist and was immediately knocked unconscious for the remainder of the battle. Woke up later in my bed at home partially convinced that I had dreamt the whole evening."

He wasn't making any sense. Antonin wondered just how hard he'd been hit in the head earlier in the evening. How could he have saved the man's life if all he'd done was knock him unconscious?

"It was a day or two later that I found out what happened to my partner. Poor, sweet, foolish Seamus." Ryan's voice cracked just a tiny bit at mention of the young Gryffindor. "He and several others that were fighting where we had been were attacked by dementors. Couldn't get away. Most of them were Kissed. Still breaks my heart thinking about that funny kid hollow and soulless. The leaders of the Resistance were responsible for ensuring those poor sods had a quick and painless death. If I hadn't been distracted by your duel with Bill, I probably would've been Kissed too."

It was a sobering thought. If a boggart popped out at Antonin, he likely would've seen a dementor preparing to Kiss him. It was a fear that most prisoners at Azkaban had for the rest of their lives. As a sick reminder of what they were up against, the Aurors assigned to Azkaban used to parade the Kissed victims around the prison for the current prisoners to see. It was a reminder of what their futures could hold.

"You also hexed me in Inverness the night that you caught Hermione."

"Were you the drunk in front of the pub?"

"Yes, I was," Ryan laughed, lightening the mood considerably. "I was the diversion while she tried to escape out the back door."

"Didn't work."

Ryan sighed.

"Oh, I know. Are you keeping her safe?"

"Yes."

"Good. She tried to assure all of us the day she and that Rowle bloke met us in Hogsmeade that you were protecting her. It was obvious to me at least, how much she loves you."

Antonin shifted uncomfortably in place after his words. While he knew that he loved Hermione and he had a strong suspicion that she felt the same way, it was strange to hear confirmation from a complete stranger that their feelings were so obvious.

"I wanted Hermione to join the Resistance, but Kings is too damn stubborn sometimes. He didn't think we could trust her because of her association with you. I thought it was bollocks, but the man could not be persuaded."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the heavy wooden door being pushed open. Ryan pushed himself against the bars of his cell to get a better look at the new arrivals.

"Angie!"

A beautiful black woman that Antonin recognized from her 'Wanted' broadsheets was dragged into the space by two of the younger Death Eaters, Higgs and one of the Carrow twins. Flora, maybe. He couldn't tell Amycus and Alecto's terrible nieces apart.

"Ryan?!"

Carrow punched the prisoner in the stomach at her outburst. Angelina Johnson sputtered and fell to the floor. Higgs was incensed.

"What the fuck, Hestia?!" he shouted. "Our orders were to take her to her cell _unharmed_."

"And she will be as long as she keeps her goddamned Blood Traitor mouth closed!"

Antonin hated the entire fucking Carrow family. He started mentally rearranging the order of Hermione's 'Unredeemable' list in his head. Perhaps it was time for the nasty twins to meet their end. With a curt nod in Ryan's direction, Antonin swept out of the dungeons.

* * *

 _Author's Note: I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas! Mine was chock full of family drama. I'm sure I'm not the only one. : ) I'm smack in the middle of a blizzard right now and it looks like I might be snowed in tomorrow. This might be good news. I've already started on Chapter Thirty-Three. If the storm is bad enough that work is cancelled but not bad enough to lose power, I might have the next chapter out Monday or Tuesday. That's my goal._


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty Three

The waiting around for Antonin to return from late-night summons was interminable. They had just been about to drift off to sleep when his fucking Mark began to burn. He'd done what he always did when called away to the side of his cruel master. He kissed her, promised he would be home soon and begged her to try to get some sleep. As if it was possible to sleep with her stomach twisted into unbearably painful knots.

One day he wasn't going to return. She could feel it deep within her bones. She didn't have to be a Seer or even believe in Divination to know that he was in serious danger every single time he Apparated away from their cottage. Every summons was getting harder and harder to bear especially after they created their own Resistance group. One slip in his Occlumency shields at the wrong time with his master and he was dead. With three powerful Death Eaters everyone thought was dead as her protectors in his absence, Hermione never feared for her own safety. All of her fear was focused solely on him.

Hermione sat up in bed propped against several pillows to begin the waiting. He might be home in half an hour or in a week. There was rarely an opportunity to warn her of extended absences. Thankfully he had been kept in the country since the incident with Alecto Carrow. Antonin tried not to frighten her, but she knew the Dark Lord had some sinister plan that she was to play a part in at some point. Her wizard would not admit it, however. Thorfinn refused to lie to her about anything involving her safety. Against Antonin's and even Rodolphus' wishes, she heard the truth from Rowle. Not that anyone possessed the full truth. No one was sure what the plan was exactly or how it would affect Hermione. They all fervently hoped that the Dark Lord would simply expire before that day came.

She read and reread the same paragraph without making any sense out of the words. It was a testament to the severity of her worries that she couldn't even focus on one of her favorite books. She knew Antonin was a strong Occlumens and they had intentionally kept him from the killing so as not to blow his cover, but it was in her nature to worry. Most of her life had been spent worrying about the men she loved and despite the enormous differences in her life, she still was.

She worried constantly about Antonin's safety and his happiness. She worried that Theo wasn't eating enough and that maybe Rodolphus was eating too much. She also worried that the cellar was too cold for Rodolphus and his socks not thick enough. She worried that Thorfinn was drinking too much and worried that he was unhappy living in the cottage. She worried that one day Theo would run away, Antonin and Thorfinn would come to blows and Rodolphus would get hit by a car when he was exploring in his canine form. She worried constantly. It was exhausting.

Convinced that neither sleeping nor reading would keep her occupied in the long wait for Antonin's return, Hermione stepped into her warmest slippers and pulled on her warmest robe. She entered the empty, dark kitchen to occupy her mind with the domestic task of preparing tea. If she did it in the Muggle way, she could keep herself busy for twice as long as using her wand. She lit only a single lamp before filling up the kettle. Just as the kettle was beginning to whistle, Hermione removed it from the lit burner. As she was pouring the boiling water into the teapot to steep, she was startled by the sudden appearance of a massive, blonde wizard in her tiny kitchen.

"Fuck! Sorry, Princess. Didn't mean to scare you."

He was able to prevent the scalding water from splashing on her hands with his quick reflexes. A single spell diverted the water in another direction. Thorfinn grasped her hands in his to search for any possible injuries. When he was convinced she was unharmed, he brought each hand up to his lips for a soft kiss. Flustered by the attention, Hermione spun away from him to resume making her tea.

"Having trouble sleeping?" Thorfinn asked as he reached up to the top cabinet where Antonin hid his best whiskey.

"Yes," she answered rolling her eyes when he pulled down a bottle of Antonin's favorite. There had been more than a few arguments between the two men over pilfered spirits. "Antonin was summoned. Hard to sleep when you're worried our little rebellion will be uncovered."

Thorfinn lowered himself down on to one of the dining chairs with his stolen alcohol. After pouring himself a rather liberal glass of Antonin's preferred, he silently watched Hermione. It didn't take long before she found the attention a bit uncomfortable. She poured the chamomile into a cup and took the seat across from him.

"Why are you still awake?" she asked.

"Same as you. Couldn't sleep," he admitted. "I've been missing having a witch in my bed even if her feet were bloody icicles."

Hermione was torn between being irritated and charmed by his comment. He could be a frustrating man. Finally deciding on rolling her eyes and ignoring his remark, she sipped her tea in the renewed silence. She wasn't sure what prompted her to ask him such a personal question or to bring up a subject she knew was painful for him, but her curiosity had been unbearable since her walk on the beach with Reina.

"Will you tell me about Charlotte?"

Thorfinn almost choked on his alcohol. Obviously having a conversation about the former love of his life was not expected. Hermione almost felt guilty while she watched him shift uncomfortable in his seat.

"Why do you want to bring up the past, Princess?"

"I'm curious about you."

Thorfinn narrowed his eyes at his late-night drinking companion. He summoned an empty glass to the table. Despite her initial protests, Thorfinn pushed a full glass in Hermione's direction.

"If we are going to have this discussion, I won't be drinking alone."

It was a fair request. Hermione raised her glass in a mock toast before gulping down a mouthful. Her tolerance for the caustic spirit had greatly improved during her months of captivity.

"Did you love her?"

"Yes, very much."

"Do you still love her?"

"It wouldn't matter if I did. She and I existed in another world, one that unfortunately, no longer exists."

They both finished their first glass of whiskey and were well on to making a large dent in their second before he spoke again.

"It's not your fault she ended things with me, if that's what you're worried about," he declared. "A part of me has blamed you for years, but I see now how insane that was. You were just a kid and I should've known better. She was mortified and I was unreasonable. But we had more problems than just nosy, tiny, ickle firsties."

He winked at her in an attempt to lighten the mood. Hermione had never once blamed herself until the day Reina told her how much Charlotte meant to her older brother. Of course she knew that her guilt was irrational on an intellectual level.

"For what it's worth, Princess, I'm sorry for blaming you."

Neither spoke for several long minutes. Hermione wasn't even sure what to say. She felt guilty for bringing up such a painful subject for Thorfinn. It seemed wrong somehow to poke at his past hurts when his present hurts were still so plain to see. She didn't really believe he was in love with her, but she knew he was suffering nonetheless.

"I kept tabs on her long after she broke my heart," Thorfinn admitted. "I didn't stand outside her house in the hedges staring in her bedroom window, but I knew what she was up to. Just wanted to make certain she was safe and happy."

"And here I thought Reina was the only sweet one in the Rowle family," she teased, smiling at him over her glass.

His hand was trembling as he attempted to refill his glass. Concerned he was going to spill the contents of the bottle all over the table, Hermione carefully removed the whiskey from his grasp. She wasted no time refilling his glass and topping hers off. Already she was feeling the effects. She was calmer and a great deal warmer than she was before she entered the kitchen.

"She was arrested with her parents and her little sister for 'seditious acts'."

His declaration was so sudden and so shocking that Hermione almost dropped her glass. No wonder he still looked so sick.

"Bollocks, if you ask me," continued Thorfinn. "About as non-political of a family as there ever was. Generations of anti-boat rockers."

"What happened to Charlotte?"

Thorfinn downed the rest of his glass in a single swallow. When Hermione moved to fill his glass up again, he waved her off. She was glad he didn't want anymore. His drinking had gotten really bad lately.

"Where do you think a pretty, young, Pureblood witch ended up?"

"Fuck."

Would that horrible woman ever cease to hurt people even after her death? Hermione was once more grateful that her wizard was responsible for ridding the world of that bitch.

"She and her little sister were locked up in that fucking place for four months before it was raided. I tried to do what I could for her, but the only way you could protect one of the Umbridge girls was to become their sponsor. I was a coward. Too fucking frightened to approach her when I learned where she was. By the time I grew a pair, she'd already found a willing sponsor."

He wiped at his eyes with more anger than Hermione had ever seen him display. Her heart broke for the man seated across the table. When he dropped one of his large hands to the hard surface, she quickly covered it with one of her tiny hands. She squeezed it once and feared Thorfinn was going to be sick. His fair complexion had a nasty green tinge.

"Do you know who it was?"

Immediately Hermione wished she could pull that question back into her mouth. It wasn't important. All it did was cause him more pain. She wished her inquisitive nature would've allowed her to keep her mouth shut. His gorgeous blue eyes were swimming. She hated seeing him so hurt.

"She got lucky, I suppose. The Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures knew her from the year or two she interned at the Ministry after Hogwarts. Not a bad bloke actually. Always fancied her a bit, I suspect. Soon as he heard she was arrested he rushed over there and claimed her. He did what he could to keep her protected."

"That must have been a little comfort, if such a thing even exists."

"I visited his office one day. Threatened him. Said if I heard or even suspected he wasn't treating her right, I'd kill him. He promised me he would."

Hermione wondered if there were more Umbridge girl sponsors out there like that Ministry department head. She hoped there were more than she was aware of. Hoped that decent men in positions of even somewhat limited power were able to protect some of those poor witches.

"Do you know what happened to her _after_?"

"Not a clue."

"You still love her."

This time it was not a question.

"A part of me will _always_ love her, Princess, but it doesn't matter."

Thorfinn tugged up the sleeve covering his left forearm. His Dark Mark shone light blue in the dimness.

"She would never be able to look past this. She would never want me again."

"Maybe you're wrong."

Thorfinn stood up from the kitchen table. He kissed the top of Hermione's head and smiled.

"You can be adorably naïve, Princess."

She hated being reminded of her relatively young age and lack of life experiences, but this time, she chose to let the comment go. Thorfinn gently pulled on one of her loose curls before walking out of the kitchen. His footsteps echoed through the cottage until she heard the door to the attic bedroom open and shut.

Hermione emptied her glass. If she was going to be an accessory to the theft of Antonin's best fire whiskey, she was going to make certain that a single drop didn't go to waste. His hiding place was too high for her to return the bottle to without the aid of a little magic. Once she was satisfied that the kitchen was back to its previously pristine condition, she returned to her empty and cold bedroom.

Her conversation with Thorfinn provided her with a great deal of new material to roll around in that expansive head of hers. She was concerned that she had opened up a box that the blonde was desperate to keep closed. It had been a painful discussion and one she was certain would haunt her thoughts and nightmares for weeks to come.

She must have dozed off at some point in her wait. The sound of the bedroom door opening woke her up immediately. Based on the uncomfortable, half-propped up position she was lying in, she was certain she couldn't have been asleep for very long. A quick glance at the window showed a still dark night sky. He might have been gone only two or three hours.

"Please tell me you got at least _some_ sleep," Antonin said, leaning over the bed to kiss her waiting lips.

"A little bit," she admitted. "Everything all right?"

Antonin sighed. In the months that she had grown close to this man, she had learned what each of his non-verbal noises meant. There were a few of his sighs that she loved to hear more than anything. They usually accompanied strenuous and rather pleasurable activities. The sigh that escaped from his mouth at that moment was one of frustration and dejection. She hated that sigh.

"The Dark Lord simply wanted to make certain that you were still safe," he answered. "And he wanted me to be aware of new prisoners in the castle."

"Anyone I know?" She held her breath waiting for the answer.

"I'm afraid so."

Without even a hint of further elaboration, Antonin disappeared into the bathroom. Hermione's own frustration began to rise with leaps and bounds. How could he answer her question with an affirmation and then wander off into the bathroom before telling her _who_ was captured? She had half a mind to storm into the room where she could hear the shower running and demand answers. If she wasn't afraid of what she might find on his clothes or skin following an impromptu meeting with the most evil wizard in history, she would have.

Instead she lay in the comfort of her bed running through a list of every single person she had ever known. It was more than a little depressing to realize that the vast majority of people she knew could be a potential prisoner for the Death Eaters. Their world was no longer safe for anyone, it seemed. She thought about every member of Dumbledore's Army that she knew was still alive. Most of them were in hiding. Reina had been able to give her very limited information about _where_ most of them were. She really was only able to confirm whether she knew someone was safe or not. Most of the Order was killed in the final battle. There were still random Weasleys who were in danger. It could've been any of them.

"Why are you still awake, _daragaya_?" Antonin asked as he slipped into the cold spot of the bed next to her. His damp hair smelled suspiciously like her favorite lavender shampoo and Hermione made a mental note to ask Theo to pick up more of Antonin's when he was out. "It's late."

"Did you really expect me to just go to sleep after you told me someone I knew was captured but not tell me who it was? I've been imagining a thousand different people."

She could read his body language better than she could read anyone else's in the world. Except maybe Thorfinn's. That man lacked subtlety. It was obvious that Antonin was reluctant to share his news. What did he believe she would do once she found out who was locked up in the dungeons of the castle? She was hardly in a position to stage a rescue mission.

"Ryan Sloane and Angelina Johnson."

Hermione's stomach dropped. While she hardly knew Ryan, she liked him. He tried so hard to get her safely out of Inverness even though they were complete strangers. Her personal feelings about his lover were easily pushed aside. He seemed to be the only of the men she and Thorfinn met in the caves that actually wanted her to become a part of their group. And she had known Angelina since she was eleven years old. They had never had a lot in common certainly, but she had nothing but respect for the woman. She'd read reports that stated the older Gryffindor girl was suspected of being on the run with George Weasley. It didn't take a genius to realize they were close. He must have been out of his mind with worry.

"What's going to happen to them?" She didn't want to ask the question, too terrified to know the truth, but she had to ask.

"Nothing for right now," he assured her with a kiss. "They are safe at the moment. The Dark Lord has a specific purpose in mind for them and is making certain they are well cared for. One of the other Death Eaters hit the Johnson girl against orders."

"Is she all right? Who hit her?"

"She's fine. Hestia Carrow hit her and she has been properly chastised for it. Their orders were to keep them unharmed."

"Fucking bitch."

"I couldn't agree more."

Antonin wanted to change the subject away from the captives. He could be very transparent at times. Hermione would've thought it was adorable if she wasn't still concerned for the two Resistance members spending a chilly evening in the bowels of the castle.

"The Carrow twins should be moved to the top of our 'Unredeemable' List," he suggested. "I imagine that they have some bitterness towards me for the killing of their horrible aunt and uncle. They may cause a problem in the future."

"You're probably right. They are horrible girls. I remember them from school. They were in Slytherin House a year behind me. I always thought they were creepy. After getting to know their aunt and uncle better than I ever cared to, I can understand where they get it from."

"That's settled then. We can rearrange the list in the morning."

Antonin kissed her once more before rolling over to his side. There was no way Hermione was going to be able to just fall asleep after all of the information she'd been given that evening. Even if her mind hadn't already been occupied with the terrible conversation she had earlier with Thorfinn, thoughts about Ryan and Angelina was at the forefront now of her mind. She wished there was something she could do. Some way that she could warn the Resistance. Antonin assured her that they were being well-cared for, but she knew that George was likely going mad with worry.

It didn't take long before the stillness of their bedroom was interrupted with soft snores. Antonin usually slept pretty hard following a stressful summons. Often Hermione had trouble falling asleep if she wasn't asleep before he was. He would likely be mortified to know that his snores kept her from sleeping. Five minutes later Hermione was still no closer to falling asleep than she had been before he finished his shower. Ten minutes later and she was convinced she was even more alert. After thirty minutes, Hermione couldn't stand to stay in bed any longer.

Her wizard was an exceptionally light sleeper. He had to be when his life was constantly in danger. Months of living and sleeping with a woman in close quarters had made him almost immune to her sounds as she moved around the room. _Almost_. There were still times that he would wake up convinced they were about to be cursed when she got up a little too quickly to head to the bathroom. She carefully extricated herself from the bedcovers. His continued snores encouraged her to keep moving. She had her slippers and robe back on and hand on the bedroom door before she heard another sound.

"Hermione? What're you doing?" His husky, drowsy voice could be downright adorable.

"Go back to sleep. I'm just going to make some tea. I'll be back in a few minutes."

The lie was enough to satisfy the man's curiosity if his renewed snores were any indication. Hermione carefully closed the bedroom door behind her. As she stood in the empty kitchen for the second time that night, she thought about her next move. Antonin would be _furious_ if he found out what she was planning.

"Then he should just remain ignorant," she whispered to no one in particular.

She covered the bedroom door and the wall in a powerful silencing charm. When she moved into the empty living room she repeated her actions on the attic door. Remembering Theo's words about the charms, she set an extra on the ceiling to be safe.

" _Expecto patronum_ ," she hissed, her thoughts focused on the moment Argos arrived on the front step of the Grimmauld Place townhouse.

Her silvery otter burst from the end of her wand. The memory of being reunited with the dog she was afraid she lost forever was strong enough to produce the tricky charm. She could've used the moment she and Antonin _finally_ consummated their relationship as she had in the past, but she was curious to know if the reunion with the animagus was enough. There were several other memories she was curious about experimenting with at another time.

"George, I know where Angelina is. Please meet me at Order Headquarters."

She watched the otter disappear through the open living room window with a sinking feeling in her gut. What would Antonin do if he found out what she was about to attempt? He would be beyond angry. She was not supposed to leave the safety of the cottage alone and certainly not to meet a known Undesirable in the middle of the night. To say that he would be displeased would be an extreme understatement. She double- and then triple- checked the silencing charms on the bedroom. If she received a response like she hoped she would, he was the last person that needed to hear so.

Only a few minutes passed before a silvery coyote she'd seen a hundred times in secret DA meetings burst through the open window. Her heart leapt at the knowledge that in mere moments she was going to hear a familiar voice she hadn't heard since the day of the Battle for Hogwarts.

 _"I will be there in five minutes, 'Mione."_

She knew she had to move fast. The longer she delayed her departure the more likely she was to be caught in the act by any of the men in the cottage. They would _all_ turn her in immediately to Antonin if discovered. Even with all of the work that Greg had put into the renovations of their previously rundown cottage, the front door was still loud and prone to getting stuck. Briefly she considered just climbing out the open window but thoughts of tumbling into the hedge underneath with the spiky leaves convinced her to not. She cast another silencing charm on the door.

Apparating to London was not hard for her after spending months on the run with the boys and then later moving around the country every few days on her own. She might have been out of practice, but she was still capable. Her feet landed on the top step of the familiar home. They wouldn't be safe there. Too many people knew of its existence. This meeting had to be short. She had to get home before anyone was aware she was gone.

There was no one waiting for her inside the decrepit mansion. A quick _homenum revelio_ was all that was needed to make certain there would not be a potential ambush inside. The five minutes that George promised hadn't passed yet. She tried to calm her nerves by climbing the staircase to her favorite room in the house. More of her time had been spent in the Black Family Library than any other if she didn't count the hours spent asleep in her guestroom. Many of the books were missing. She carried some inside her purple beaded bag that had recently been returned to her possession. Others must have been carried away or destroyed by any of the many visitors to the former Headquarters.

"I suspected I might find you in here."

The teasing tone of the surviving Weasley twin was a balm to her soul. Hermione immediately dropped the book she was flipping through at the sound. George stood in the doorway, leaned casually up against the doorframe almost as if it were a daily occurrence that they saw each other. She didn't miss the wand clasped tightly in his wand arm hanging at his side.

"Even in the middle of the night waiting on a clandestine meeting our 'Mione is easily distracted by the written word."

His familiar goofy grin crossed over his features. Hermione thought he had never looked more handsome. Three steps were all it took for her to cross the expansive library and right into his waiting arms. They clung to each other with tears freely running down both of their cheeks. George's arms felt like coming home. He represented a world, a lifetime that didn't exist any longer. He was the closest she had to a family member left in the country. Once upon a time she imagined marrying into his family and making it official. His little brother was her first love. His parents always made her feel welcome. Even when he and Fred got on her nerves (which was quite frequently) she loved them fiercely.

"We can't stay here very long," he said, breaking the embrace.

Hermione stepped back from the redhead to take her first proper look at the man she hadn't seen in almost two solid years. Time and the Resistance had not been kind to him. He was too thin, too tired, too haggard. If a large gust of wind blew through the house at that moment, he could've been swept away.

"Where is Angie?" asked George. "Is she all right?"

She couldn't ignore how nervous he seemed to be in her presence. No doubt this was as surreal a visit for him as it was for her. His brother thought she was a traitor, maybe even a traitorous Death Eater whore.

"Angie hasn't been hurt," she promised. "She is being kept at Hogwarts in the dungeons."

George moved as if he were going to run off to their former school to pluck his witch out of the castle on his own. Hermione recognized that gleam in his eyes. Before he could get away from her and write his own death warrant, she gripped his arm. Surprised at first by the motion, George glared down at the much smaller witch with an almost disgusted expression flashed across his features.

"She is safe for now. The Dark Lord has some plan for his captives and he has ordered the Death Eaters to keep them safe. I don't know how long she will remain unharmed, but for now, she's all right."

He broke down into relieved tears. Hermione pulled him back into her arms for another comforting embrace.

"Ryan Sloane was captured too. He is there with her."

George pushed back from her arms to stare down at the young woman.

"Kingsley has been beside himself since Ryan was captured earlier. He's been so worried. We were looking for him when I got the message from Dad that Angie was gone. He was bringing some supplies to our safe house. A large hole was blasted in the side and it was on fire. I was certain that she got away until I got your patronus."

"I'm sorry to give you bad news."

"No, no, it's not your fault, 'Mione. Angie is strong. She will be all right until we can rescue her."

She couldn't imagine there would ever be a situation in which the members of the Resistance could even hope to breach the castle. Their captives were held in the deepest part of the dungeons. It wasn't as simple as flying on the back of a condemned hippogriff to an unlocked tower window. With the familiar grin on his face, George lifted his wand and cast his own patronus. The coyote stalked around the room waiting for his message.

 _"Kings, I know where Ryan and Angie are. Come to Grim Place immediately."_

The coyote was darting out of the space before Hermione could beg him not to contact Kingsley. The last person she wanted to see was the wizard who had been so vehemently against her joining the Resistance. He would _not_ be pleased to see her standing in the old Headquarters.

"I have to go now," she said, rushing towards the staircase.

"No, 'Mione. Wait."

She was no match for George's superior strength. With one single tug of her arm she was back inside the library. He didn't relinquish his grip on her just in case she had ideas of rushing off again.

"I can't be here when Kingsley gets here, George. He hates me."

"Yeah, Bill told me all about that shite that happened with all of you. I've been on your side all along, 'Mione. Angie too. I was fucking _angry_ when I found out they rejected you. How could they think for one second that you were the enemy? I had to remind Bill that you are family and you don't turn your back on family."

"They didn't appreciate the man that I _choose_ to share my bed with."

George gently released his grasp of her limb. Hermione rubbed at it in an attempt to bring some feeling back into it. Anything to keep her mind occupied.

"I won't pretend that I understand just what it is you do with Dolohov behind closed doors. It's none of my business. If you can honestly tell me that you are not being harmed or held against your will, I can support your decisions. Dad agrees with me. He was _furious_ with Bill and Kings."

Hermione felt every single muscle in her body stiffen up. When she tried to turn her neck or move her fingers, she met with resistance. She discovered her head was left unbound when she rolled her eyes and sighed. It wasn't too difficult to figure out who was responsible for placing the _almost_ full body bind on her.

"George, please tell me just what in the _fuck_ she is doing here," Kingsley demanded.

The former auror moved around Hermione's body to allow her to see his wand pointed at her body. He was struggling to catch his breath and a vein in the side of his neck was positively throbbing.

"Hermione knows where Ryan and Angie are."

"Yes, I just bet she does," Undesirable No 2 spat. "And I'm sure she couldn't wait to rush over here to tell us and lure us into her trap."

"There's no trap, Kingsley!" Hermione shouted. "No one knows I'm here."

The dark skinned man stalked closer to his prey.

"Your _lover_ doesn't know you're here?"

"No, of course not! I'm not even supposed to know what's going on. Antonin was asleep when I left. I had to sneak out of bed."

Kingsley scoffed at her confession. It was obvious that the man wasn't going to be appeased with any word that came out of her mouth. His resentment of her obviously went too deep to cure with one act of goodwill.

"Ryan and Angie are being held in the dungeons at Hogwarts," Hermione announced. "I have no idea why or how long they are supposed to be kept there. The Dark Lord…"

"She even fucking calls _him_ 'The Dark Lord'!"

"Kings, stop. Let her finish," George begged.

"You-Know- _Fucking_ -Who is keeping them locked up in the dungeon. Antonin didn't know why. All he knew was that the guards were ordered to keep the captives safe and unharmed. He has some big plan for them."

Kingsley was skeptical. No, skeptical wasn't a strong enough word to describe his feelings on the subject of Hermione Bloody Granger bringing him top secret Death Eater news in the middle of the night. He hadn't survived as long as he did in his dangerous job without being able to trust his own judgment.

"What do you have to gain by telling me this?" he asked, his tone still hostile. "What do you hope to gain by telling us where we can find them? It surely can't be out of the goodness of your Death Eater loving heart!"

His words stung Hermione more than she cared to admit. His distrust was understandable, but his petty vindictiveness was painful.

"Maybe I don't have anything to gain, Kingsley. Maybe I just want the people I love to know they're safe."

If he was abashed by her response, Shacklebolt hid it well. George's entire face was a bright, unattractive red. His fury with his friend and comrade's actions was evident. Kingsley cleared his throat before speaking.

"Yes, well, forgive me if I find your words hard to take at face value, Granger."

Using her surname hurt more than his insults. Their easy camaraderie from before the war ended was gone. Maybe forever. Certainly Hermione no longer held out any hope that Kingsley would miraculously forgive her one day. She felt sure that as long as she chose to have Antonin Dolohov populate her bed and her heart there would be plenty of people who didn't understand or support her choices.

"Ryan is safe for now," she repeated. "I hope that can bring you some small bit of comfort."

Kingsley lifted his wand again to remove the full body bind from the woman. Before he could finish reciting the incantation or summon the concentration to do so non-verbally, a massive snake patronus flew into the library. While she wasn't expecting it, Hermione remembered who the patronus belonged to and wasn't afraid.

" _Kings, my safe house was attacked! Hannah and Frank are gone! Please come immediately!"_

Neville's frantic tone was chilling. None of them present could even hope to imagine how concerned and frightened the poor man must be for his missing wife and son.

"I suspect they've been taken to Hogwarts too," she announced. "I promise to let you both know if I hear anything. Sometimes he shares information with me he shouldn't."

The spell was released and Kingsley was out the front door in less time than it took to sneeze. George thanked her once again before pulling her into another bone-crushing hug. He begged her to remain vigilant and careful before rushing out the front door.

Not even half an hour had passed between the moment her feet touched the top step of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and her feet landed back on the soft dirt in front of her cottage. She felt confident that she would be able to sneak back into bed without Antonin being aware she was even missing.

Four angry men were waiting for her in the living room. One look at her fuming wizard was all Hermione needed to know this late-night wasn't about to end any time soon.

* * *

 _Author's Note: What did everyone think? Reviews have been so quiet lately. :) I hate filler chapters, but the action is about to pick up soon. I promise. :)_

 _We are getting relatively close to the end of this story. I'm still not sure how many chapters we have left, but it will be wrapping up soon. I have lots of ideas for who I want to pair Hermione with for my next story, but I would love to hear from all of you! Who should get the girl next time? :) I have a Hermione/Thorfinn, Hermione/Rodolphus and at least two more Hermione/Antonin stories planned. (I even have a Hermione/Kingsley story planned, but that one is going to take while. I plan to work on that one while working on others.) Or is there another pairing I should tackle? I'd love to hear some feedback. Please feel free to PM me with any suggestions._


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter Thirty Four

A soft knocking at the bedroom door roused Antonin out of a deep sleep. It was an unusual enough noise to startle him awake. Even with three extra tenants in his small cottage there were few occasions that anyone had need to pound on the bedroom door. He rubbed his eyes and rolled over towards Hermione's side of the bed. If he was lucky, she would get up instead.

"Hermione, who is it?" he asked the darkness.

No one responded and the knocking became even more insistent. He reached over to find Hermione's spot in the bed empty and rapidly growing cold. Whoever was still knocking was persistent. Antonin climbed out of bed and used his long legs to his advantage to cross the bedroom in only a few strides.

"What?" he demanded as he opened the door.

Rodolphus stood in the doorway with an anxious expression spread across his features. His disheveled hair and wrinkled pajamas reminded Antonin strongly of the man's canine form. He briefly wondered how much of the man's overall character changed after spending years living the idyllic existence of a pampered and indulged pet.

"Hermione is gone," Rodolphus declared.

"What do you mean 'gone'?"

She'd only stepped out of their bedroom a short time ago to make some tea. Antonin had hardly been able to drift back to sleep before the infernal knocking began.

"She left the cottage and Disapparated to Merlin knows where," the animagus elaborated.

Antonin felt his gut clench and drop at the man's words. One of his greatest unspoken fears was that one day his witch would run off in the middle of the night to disappear from his life forever. Secretly he knew it was always just a matter of time.

"She put silencing spells up before she left," Rodolphus explained. "One on your bedroom door and one upstairs. She didn't intend for anyone to hear her leave, but she forgot the cellar and my hearing is excellent."

Antonin struggled to keep his composure. How was it possible to remain stoic and unruffled during a meeting with the most terrifying of Dark wizards, but a twenty year old witch could unnerve him so? While he worked diligently to steady his breathing, Rodolphus went upstairs to wake the others. Antonin was thankful for the older wizard's perceptiveness. He needed a minute to calm down. His mind was concocting a myriad of worsening fears.

Two bleary eyed wizards followed Rodolphus down the stairs a short time later. Both looked as rumpled as everyone else. There was no doubt in Antonin's mind that neither of them knew anything about Hermione's sudden disappearance. The concern on Theo's face and the fear on Thorfinn's confirmed their ignorance.

"Neither of them heard her leave, Antonin," Rodolphus said though there was no need.

"She and I were in the kitchen talking before you got home, Antonin," Thorfinn announced. "She was worried about you and neither of us could sleep. We talked for a while, but she never mentioned anything about leaving."

"It's my fault. I told her some of the rebels were captured tonight. People she knew."

All three of the other men groaned at Antonin's confession.

"Yes, that sounds like Princess. Fucking Gryffindor. She ran off to warn the Resistance."

"I'm sure she will be back," added Theo. "Look. Her boots are still sitting by the front door. She wouldn't run off permanently and just leave those behind."

Antonin felt the tightness in his gut relax only slightly. Theo had a point that could not be ignored. It was the middle of December. She would be a fool to rush out for good with only her pajamas and slippers on. Wherever she'd disappeared to it was beginning to seem likely that she had every intention of returning.

"So she probably just snuck out to meet someone with the Resistance and is likely to come home soon after," Rodolphus said in an effort to remain the cool voice of reason in the stressful situation. Antonin was thankful for his calming presence yet again. "Where all did you and Hermione meet the Resistance, Thorfinn?"

"We met the leaders of their rebel group at Tower Bridge in London and then in some caves outside of Hogsmeade."

The four men began planning their next course of action. It seemed prudent that they split up to cover more ground. Thorfinn considered contacting his sister to see if she could get a message through Lucius to the Resistance, but his idea was vetoed by the majority. They would only do that as a last resort. There was no reason to wake and worry Reina in the middle of the night if it was unnecessary.

"All right. Theo, you check Tower Bridge. Thorfinn will go to the Hogsmeade caves. Antonin will go to her parents' house and then the Weasleys' old home if she's not there. I will check the old Black house and…"

Rodolphus' instructions were cut off by the deafening sound of an Apparition pop just outside the front door. Antonin could feel his blood pressure begin to rise steadily to worrying levels as the threat of a confrontation with his stubborn witch became more of a disturbing possibility. In the few seconds that passed from the 'pop' to the opening of the creaking, heavy door, Antonin rediscovered how bloody angry he was. Sometimes she could be a naïve fool. Did she really not understand the constant danger she was in every single time she stepped away from the safety of the cottage and her deadly protectors?

Hermione was trying to very carefully open the front door without making any noise. Antonin had to prevent himself from yelling that her efforts were futile. There was no reason why they couldn't have a calm, serious discussion like the adults they were. Surely it was possible.

The moment her face came into view with the obnoxious sheepish expression plastered all over it, Antonin was no longer certain he could remain calm.

"Where have you been?"

His low, cool tone surprised everyone, including him. Part of him expected only gibberish to fly out of his mouth at thunderous decibels. Usually when he faced down a person as livid as he currently felt, he was about to curse them into oblivion. Or slice them to pieces with one of his cursed knives. Or crush their windpipe with his powerful hands. At that moment, he could imagine doing all of them at once to the woman he was positive he was in love with. He briefly wondered if it was normal to have homicidal fantasies about the one person he loved more than anything.

"I went out for a little bit."

He wasn't aware that it was even physically possible to be angrier than he already was until that trite sentence came tumbling out of her mouth. Antonin clenched and unclenched his fists and attempted several deep breaths before speaking. He was glad that his wand was still safely stowed under his pillow. With it in hand he might actually curse her.

"Hermione, tell me where you were."

"I don't really feel like that's necessary."

Hermione's eyes moved from angry wizard to angry wizard around the room. Antonin was grateful that the others seemed content to act as silent support. They were all a united front against the irreverent brashness of the Gryffindor they all cared for.

"You are not to leave the cottage again without permission."

He was feeling pretty proud of himself for his self-control until Hermione actually failed to suppress a derisive snort at his command. It suddenly felt as if months had fallen away and they were back to that horrible first morning in Rabastan's manor. Even her response was reminiscent of the day she finally woke up.

"Are we back to me being your prisoner then?"

"If I have to, I will enact very strong wards that would keep you confined to the cottage. Now tell me, where were you?"

When she refused to answer his question again, Antonin gripped her arm and had to practically drag her to their bedroom. He didn't miss her pleading eyes seek out Rodolphus and Thorfinn. Both men were in agreement to not interfere. Once behind the closed bedroom door, Antonin snatched his wand out from under his pillow to lay some heavy silencing spells on the room. This argument was likely to continue well into the late hours. There was no sense in keeping everyone in the cottage awake.

"Don't forget the ceiling," she muttered from the end of the bed where she was seated.

Antonin covered every inch of their room in enchantments. It gave him something to do to keep his mind and his hands occupied until he was calm enough to trust himself with her safety. Several long, anxious minutes passed in silence.

"Please tell me where you went."

Hermione sighed.

"I was in London with George Weasley."

Antonin felt his blood pressure begin to rise again. If he keeled over dead from a stroke because of the infuriating chit of a girl, he wouldn't be shocked. He could not believe a woman with as prodigious a brain as Hermione would be so deliberately, fucking foolish! Weasley was Undesirable Number 4 for Rowena's sake! He was a danger to himself and to anyone silly enough to be in his presence. Anything could have happened to her. The Dark Lord admitted there was a spy within the Resistance's ranks. If Weasley's whereabouts were known by the other side and he was captured when Hermione was with him…

He shook his head to banish the panicked thought. Hermione would've been placed in the deviant hands of one of his brethren and he would be executed by the Dark Lord for allowing her access to a wand and not keeping her close. It was painfully obvious that he was going to have to stop confiding in her if he couldn't prevent her from running off in the middle of the night when she learned a juicy tidbit. He regretted telling her about the capture of Ryan Sloane and Angelina Johnson.

"Were you telling him the whereabouts of the captives?" His voice was much steadier than he expected.

"Angie is his fiancée! How could I _not_ tell him she was all right?" Hermione demanded, her righteous indignation causing her hair to spark. "And Kingsley might be a huge arse for jinxing me, but he deserves to know Ryan was safe."

"You saw Shacklebolt?"

Hermione's eyes instantly dropped to the floor. In a much meeker voice she replied in the affirmative.

"Fuck, Hermione! He's Undesirable Number 2! Number 2! He's even more dangerous than Weasley."

Antonin scoffed.

"Next you will be telling me that you had tea with Neville Longbottom."

"He wasn't there!" she answered, her spark returning with her fury. "He did send his patronus to Kingsley when I was there. His wife and baby were also taken. Why were they taken, Antonin?"

"I don't know."

"I don't believe you," she spat. "You just want to keep me ignorant so I don't suspect that you are still fighting on the wrong side!"

Her words cut him deeper than he expected. Is that what she really thought of him? Had he not proven himself willing to do just about anything, including betray his sworn master, to keep her safe? He was hosting a rebel group in his own home whose sole purpose was to kill Death Eaters. _He_ was still a Death Eater.

"Respectfully, Hermione, you are full of shite! You have no idea what you are even talking about."

She continued to fume. Ordinarily he thought the witch was utterly beguiling when she was mad. He sometimes liked to stir her up to see her passion, but in that moment when he would've preferred to be deep asleep with his arms wrapped around a woman he didn't have to worry about running off in the middle of the night to join a dangerous group of rebels, he could've been happier to never see her angry again.

"I truthfully do not know why so many hostages are being taken. The weaker the Dark Lord becomes, the more paranoid he becomes. I believe that _no one_ knows his entire plan except for the Dark Lord himself."

Her rage had tempered off to a rather indulgent self-pity he found much less attractive. Tears were forming in her eyes that she refused to shed in front of him. Her pride would one day be her downfall he feared.

"We can discuss this further in the morning when we've both calmed down," he promised.

Without so much as a grunt in response, Hermione leapt off the edge of the bed and pushed through the closed bedroom door. Fearing she was about to make another run for it, Antonin followed. The other inhabitants had all gone off to their separate beds and the house was dark and a little eerie. He followed his witch to the steps to the basement. She refused to acknowledge him despite him being only a couple of steps behind.

"Rodolphus?" she called from the top of the stairs.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" asked Lestrange.

Hermione walked down the stairs. Antonin followed just far enough to be able to watch his witch embrace the other wizard. The tears that she had been holding in since their bedroom were now freely flowing down her cheeks. Rodolphus wrapped his arms around the softly sobbing woman.

"Can I stay down here tonight?" she asked, her voice muffled in his shoulder.

Rodolphus met Antonin's eyes across the dim basement in some sort of search for assurance. Antonin nodded once. She obviously wasn't going to find any comfort in his bed that night. Best that she find it where she could.

"Of course, my dear."

Rodolphus kissed the top of her head before he transformed into his canine form. Hermione sat down on the sofa and wrapped her arms around Rodolphus' neck. When she started crying into his fur, Antonin climbed back up the stairs. He didn't want to see her so upset because he might somehow manage to convince himself that he was somehow wrong in their argument. He wasn't wrong. She was reckless.

He only managed to make it twenty minutes tossing and turning in bed before he gave up getting any more sleep that night. There was bound to be more information to gain at Hogwarts as to why so many Resistance members were being picked up at the same time. He dressed quickly and was out the front door in no time.

There was a great deal of activity inside the Hogwarts gates. Despite it being so late, or rather _early_ , there seemed to be an unusual number of Death Eaters and Snatchers wandering around the grounds. With the exception of a few nods of acknowledgement in his direction, everyone left him alone. He was through the massive doors to the Entrance Hall and headed towards the dungeons without any distractions.

Rabastan was in the corridor just outside of the cells in the dungeon. He was chatting up one of the horrible Carrow twins. Whichever one it was ran her hand from Rabastan's elbow up to his shoulder in an unnerving manner similar to how her aunt used to accost Antonin when he stumbled upon her after she had too much to drink. Except in this instance, the receiver of the attention actually seemed to be enjoying it. Antonin struggled to keep a sneer off of his face at the thought. Rabastan always liked them young. Of course with Hermione only a year older than the twins…

"Antonin! What a pleasant surprise," greeted Rabastan.

The grimace on the Carrow girl's face revealed that _she_ certainly didn't find his appearance pleasant in the slightest. Being personally responsible for her uncle's death and peripherally responsible for her aunt's, it really was no surprise. Even horrible family was still family. Antonin was thankful that it wouldn't be much longer before the twins were yet two more victims.

"If you will excuse me, Rabastan, I'm going to head back upstairs," Carrow announced. She turned to glare at Antonin. "The air down here just became too foul to breathe any longer."

The wizards watched the young witch disappear down the dungeon corridor. When she was out of earshot, Antonin faced his friend.

"A Carrow, Rabastan? _Really_?"

"You're not being fair to sweet Flora," Rabastan laughed. "She is lovely. And there are certain skills that apparently run through families. She must have picked up some tips from her aunt. What that girl can do with her tongue…"

Rabastan shivered at the thought. Antonin shuddered.

"She's extremely _eager_ to show her appreciation for the more senior members of our little organization," he continued. "Too bad you are persona non grata with that family."

"As if I would let a single part of my body, let alone a part I'm rather fond of, anywhere near one of those ghastly people."

Lestrange simply laughed.

"What brings you to the castle at this ungodly hour, my friend?" asked Rabastan.

"Heard a rumor that there was quite a bit of excitement going on around here," Antonin replied. "I was curious. What's going on?"

"We captured some more hostages this evening. More rebel trash. We're not sure what the Dark Lord wants with them. Seems easier to just kill them instead."

"Who are they?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Guess not."

Rabastan seemed eager to continue his explanation, but they were interrupted by a junior Death Eater. One of the new recruits. Montgomery or Montague. He couldn't get them straight. Names escaped him when their owners were not important.

"Mr. Dolohov?"

At least the boy showed the proper amount of respect. Antonin turned towards the new arrival.

"Yes?"

"The Dark Lord would like to see you."

It was unsettling how his master could sense him breach the wards of the castle. He nodded in acknowledgement to the boy, shook Rabastan's hand and swept out of the dungeon. An impromptu meeting with the Dark Lord was never a pleasant prospect. He hated the uncertainty of what he would find when he climbed the stairs to the Headmaster's Office. His feet were at the base of the spiral staircase before his mind was prepared. Antonin took several moments to take deep breaths and clear his mind. When he was certain his shields were in place, he climbed the stairs.

"Good morning, Antonin," the Dark Lord greeted. "Your visit is certainly _unexpected_."

Antonin crossed the expansive office to kneel at his master's feet. Once again the shriveled up Dark wizard was seated in front of the massive fireplace in a deep armchair. He'd just seen the man earlier, but it seemed that every time he walked away from the Dark Lord he returned to find him even more altered.

"Yes, my Lord. I returned home to check on the Mudblood and found I couldn't spend another moment in her company without wishing to rip her obnoxious head from her tiny throat."

His response was met with great joy from his master. The room practically vibrated with the hideous sound of the being's laughter. It was ten times worse than someone running their nails down a chalkboard. Antonin struggled to keep his face impassive.

"I can understand how trying that must be for you, Antonin. You will be pleased to know that you will not be required to keep watch over your intolerable houseguest for much longer."

Antonin's ears perked up. What could he possibly mean?

"My Lord?"

"Our plans for breaking those that would rebel are moving along as expected. We are currently only lacking one more and then we will be ready for your Mudblood's participation."

"May I ask what you are planning, my Lord?"

The shrill laughter filled the space once more. Antonin had to clench his hands into fists to prevent covering his ears.

"It will all be a grand surprise, Antonin, but perhaps you can take a guess by thinking about who we have apprehended. Think about who we have in the dungeons."

"My Lord?"

"We have the auror's lover. He was the first one that was captured. The Angelina girl is engaged to be married to that Weasley who used to have a twin. We also have Mrs. Longbottom and their brat whose middle name is Aberforth. There have been rumors that Lucius has found himself a new tart, but seeking her out was unnecessary. His son is an apprentice in this castle and is already here. We simply moved his private quarters to a tiny cell next to the others. All we are waiting on is finding that French veela the other Weasley married."

Antonin still didn't understand what the plans were. All he could figure was that the Death Eaters had been capturing those who were close to the highest ranked Undesirables. For what purpose, he didn't know. It would've made more sense for their spy to provide the whereabouts of the _actual_ Undesirables instead of their spouses and innocent babies.

"Love is a weakness, Antonin. I am about to prove to those who would dare to rebel just how much of one it is."

* * *

When Hermione woke up on the basement couch the next morning, it took her a few moments to remember just where she was. After months of sharing a bed with Antonin, it was strange to wake up alone. Soft snores could be heard from the immense Saint Bernard snuggled up on the floor in front of the fireplace. All at once her horrible night came rushing back. It hadn't taken her long crying on Rodolphus' neck to wear herself out. She hardly remembered lying down in his usual bed.

She'd never run from the bed she shared with Antonin. Even after the month where he didn't speak to her after the horrible party was spent in their shared bed. Why the argument the night before was different was not clear. Carefully rising from the makeshift bed to keep from waking up the slumbering canine, Hermione was up and out of the basement moments later. She didn't like how they ended the argument the night before. If their past had taught them nothing, it was that communication was important. They could've reconciled a hell of a lot sooner after the party if neither of them had been afraid to actually speak.

Antonin was in the kitchen making breakfast. The dark circles under his eyes gave every indication that sleep had been elusive. She felt a twinge of guilt remembering how easily he'd fallen asleep after his shower. _She_ was responsible for his sleepless night. He looked up from the stove when she made her entrance. Without saying a word, he cracked a couple extra eggs in the skillet. Hermione moved past him to start brewing some tea. Neither said a single word.

"Are we going to just continue to sit here in awkward silence?" Hermione finally asked when their plates were almost clean.

He pushed his plate to the center of the small table.

"What do you want me to say, Hermione? That I'm sorry about last night? Because I'm not. You were reckless last night. I meant every word I said to you."

She couldn't argue with him when she knew he was right. In hindsight, running off to see George in the middle of the night _had_ been reckless. Antonin had given her a great deal of freedom, but she was still his captive. It was easy to forget that as their relationship had grown. Until the war was over or until one or both of them were dead, she was his prisoner. He had been more than just kind. He had been generous.

"You were right," she agreed. "I shouldn't have…"

Whatever else she was going to say was cut off by his sharp intake of breath. She dropped her fork with a clang to the plate. Antonin rose from his seat in a swift movement. He placed a soft kiss amongst her curls.

"We can finish our discussion when I get back."

She didn't move from her seat at the table until the sound of the front door shutting made its way to her ears. It was still very early. No one else in the cottage had so much as stirred. Of course the boys upstairs usually slept in. Thorfinn because he usually had late, late nights on missions with Rodolphus and alone. Theo because he was depressed. Hermione was perpetually trying to get him out of the cottage or at least involved in _something_ , but he never showed an interest. Rodolphus could sleep all day if left to his own devices.

When she headed back downstairs after her morning shower, she found Rodolphus awake and puttering around the potions table. A cauldron was simmering on a low flame. They were almost finished with their first batch of polyjuice potion. It took a long time to brew.

"Good morning, my dear," he greeted with a warm smile. She couldn't help but smile back. It was impossible to not be happy when Rodolphus Lestrange turned his bright grin in her direction. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied. "I'm sorry to have kicked you out of your bed last night."

"There is nothing to apologize for. Honestly, I'm still adjusting to sleeping as a human. There are many nights when I revert back to my Argos form just to sleep. I imagine it will take some time before I'm completely comfortable being myself again."

Hermione sat down on a nearby stool to watch him work. The potion was at the stage that nothing needed to be done to it except for vigorous stirring every few hours. It was painfully dull, but Rodolphus had taken to the brewing like a duck to water. He had been enjoying their potions project immensely.

"I wish I could turn myself into an animal," she said to herself. It was spoken in a low voice, but with his exceptional canine hearing, Rodolphus rotated in his spot to smile again. "I could hide too."

"Surely you don't have anything worse than Bellatrix Lestrange to hide from," he teased.

His remark elicited the response he wanted. Despite her desire to not, Hermione found herself laughing in earnest thinking about the man's horrible late wife. No, not even death was as bad as that crazy bitch.

"Maybe Antonin wouldn't be so quick to lose his temper with me if I was some cuddly rabbit or fluffy cat."

"I would love to give you good, solid relationship advice, my dear, but you met my wife. I am no expert."

Hermione hopped off the stool. She wrapped her arms around Rodolphus' waist to lay her cheek on his chest. He set the stirrer down long enough to return the embrace.

"I hope that someday you can find someone good who will make you happy," Hermione stated. "You deserve happiness too."

Rodolphus chuckled softly and kissed her head once more.

"You will forgive me, Hermione, if I choose the relative safety of spending the rest of my life alone. Not sure I can stand another dreadful marriage."

"Oh, give it a break, Rod. You and I both know there is no way in a thousand lifetimes that you could stumble upon another bitch as crazy or homicidal as Bellatrix."

"There will be plenty of time to worry about my dismal love life in the future, my dear."

She watched him return to stirring the potion. Neither said anything for a long time. It was peaceful and they didn't see the need to ruin the moment with unnecessary speech.

"I feel uneasy, Rod. Like there's something about to happen and I know he and I would regret this anger and distance."

The wizard set down the stirrer once more. He was finished with that stage. More stirring wouldn't be required until approximately the same time the next day.

"I feel uneasy too," he admitted. "Maybe it's just all of the tension floating around this house. It's too tiny to have this many people."

"Says the little rich wizard who grew up in a fancy manor."

They both laughed.

"Let's go for a walk along the beach," Rodolphus suggested. "We could both use some fresh air."

Upstairs the other two members of their small gang were just rousing for breakfast. Theo didn't pause in the living room to engage them in conversation. He rarely did. It seemed that these days the only person who could get more than two words out of him was his roommate. Thorfinn had a way about him that despite his perversity and his sarcasm could actually encourage the reticent to speak. They were a good match.

"It's fucking freezing out there, Princess. You actually want to go walk along the beach with your mutt?"

"Shut up, Thorfinn," she responded. "We need some fresh air. This cottage is too small."

"Can't argue with you on that one," he agreed. "I think Teddy and I are going to head to the pub later. We need some better scenery. No offense, Princess. You know how much I enjoy looking at you, but we would really like to meet some other women. Even just for some conversation that doesn't revolve around murder and torture."

"You sure you don't want to join us on our walk?"

"Absolutely sure."

To further his point, Thorfinn spun around in place and headed towards the sound of frying bacon. Hermione wasn't offended. She didn't expect either of them to actually want to brave the freezing weather just for some exercise. Rodolphus was waiting for her at the front door with an eager expression on his face. His enthusiasm was infectious. She could almost see his tail wagging even in his human form.

"We'll be back later," Hermione called across the cottage. Only grumbles were heard in response.

Hermione pulled her heavy winter cloak on over her three layers of warm clothing. She had matching gloves and a matching hat. Before she was finished bundling up, Rodolphus was already in his favored form. He ran several feet ahead of her the entire way to the beach. It didn't take long before Hermione was regretting taking him up on his offer. Thorfinn had a point. It _was_ fucking freezing.

Rodolphus ran off to chase some unsuspecting birds. The sky filled with the squawks and wings of unhappy birds. Hermione laughed at the sight of the Saint Bernard running in circles to chase his tail. She wished that she could experience the same freedom that he did. Maybe one day she would take the time to figure out if she even possessed enough patience to accomplish the feat of becoming an animagus. If Peter Pettigrew could achieve an actual animal form, certainly she could. She had the highest Transfiguration marks of any student in the previous twenty years.

They had been enjoying the liberty of the outdoors for almost twenty minutes. Hermione's face had grown numb. She considered calling out to Rodolphus to come back to the cottage, but before a single word could be uttered, she was grabbed from behind. Her first instinct was that Thorfinn was playing an unamusing trick on her. She prepared herself to cause him physical harm when he released his hold. The moment the first words came out of her attacker's mouth all hopes that he was friendly were dashed.

"I don't really recommend wandering around alone, Granger. Not in these dangerous times."

Cormac McLaggen loosened his hold on her waist long enough to reach into her pants pocket. Her wand, her beautiful wand from Antonin, was in his clutches. He didn't snap it in half as she feared he would. Simply dropped it on the sand and kicked it away. With the loss of her one source of protection, she felt the air leave her lungs.

"You are not an easy person to find, Hermione," Cormac continued. "I knew the approximate location of where Dolohov's cottage was located, but it actually took me several days before I saw anyone actually leave. Imagine my surprise when I saw you walk out of the protective enchantments this morning. Does your captor know where you are?"

She struggled against the man, but it was futile. He towered over her and was much stronger than she could ever hope to be. Without her wand, she didn't stand a chance against him. She watched Rodolphus off in the distance chasing a bird. All she could do was hope that he would notice that something wasn't right with her before it was too late. What was Cormac's plan anyway?

"Of course Dolohov knows where I am," Hermione lied. "He _always_ knows where I am. He's watching me from the windows right now. I imagine he won't be too happy to see you touching what doesn't belong to you."

Cormac laughed. It was nothing like the warm, arrogant chuckle she remembered from school. Whatever had happened in the time since they were fellow Gryffindors must have been drastic. She no longer recognized this man.

"You always were a shit liar, Hermione. I know he's not there. He's been summoned away."

"How do you know…"

"I know a lot. Certainly more than you do."

His cryptic answers did nothing to put her mind at ease. She noticed Rodolphus running towards them at full speed. He would be upon them in no time.

"I'm not alone," she announced.

"Oh, yeah. I was warned about your dog."

Rodolphus' growl was loud and fierce. Hermione knew his power. She felt heartened by his reappearance. All was not lost.

" _Crucio_!"

The sounds of a crying Saint Bernard filled the air. All her dear friend and protector could do was lie down trembling in the sand crying as the torture curse ravaged his body. Cormac cast the curse as if he had been casting it for years. Hermione screamed loud enough to hurt her own ears. She was afraid, deeply afraid, for Rodolphus.

"I understand he likes to rip throats out," Cormac said, dropping the curse.

Hermione used every last bit of strength she possessed to pull herself out of his blasted grasp. Without thought for her own safety, she ran towards Rodolphus. He was still lying in the sand trembling. His quiet whimpers were breaking her heart. She didn't understand why Cormac was doing this. What could he possibly have to gain by terrorizing her on an empty beach? With hot tears streaming down her face, she buried her face in Rodolphus' fur. Her hands ran up and down his body in an effort to calm and soothe.

"Leave him be, Granger. It's time for us to go."

"Like I would ever go _anywhere_ with you, McLaggen!"

Cormac wasn't deterred by her abrupt refusal. He closed the distance between them. His wand was still out, pointed directly at Rodolphus.

You have two choices, Granger," he declared. "One, you come with me now or two, I use another Unforgivable on your dog that will keep him from ever chasing birds again and you _still_ come with me."

When described in such stark, finite terms, Hermione really couldn't argue with the psychopath. She rubbed the fur on Rodolphus' head.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

She stood up from her dog. Cormac grasped her arm and Apparated them away from the beach.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Thanks for your patience as I got this chapter out a little bit later than I planned. The closer this story gets to the end, the harder it becomes to write. Never fear that I will abandon it!_

 _After all of the craziness with the reviews not working correctly over the last several days, I wanted to say a special thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! You all provided such wonderful encouragement and even provided some great ideas for future stories. I really appreciate each and every one of them._

 _Shameless plug time: I just started another story last night that I encourage you all to check out. The overwhelming majority of responses I got from readers was that they were interested in a Thorfinn/Hermione story. Well, the first chapter is up! It's a nice break from the ever-increasing darkness of this story. It won't be all fluff and butterflies, however, but not nearly the same amount of death and violence. : ) Only one death planned. But there will be several opportunities for Thorfinn to go all Alpha Male and knock people around with his giant fists. I wouldn't consider that Dark. Just moderately sexy in a violent way that should make me ashamed of myself._


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty Five

He hated walking away from her when their argument was still unresolved. His mother had always told him that he should never allow anger and resentment to linger unsettled for too long. There was always the chance that if one waited too long to confront the issues plaguing a relationship that the other person might not be there. Mira Dolohov had been a wise woman whose advice he really could've used at that moment. Hell, he could've used her advice for the past twenty-one years. If she hadn't have died there was simply no telling how different his life might have turned out.

Even though he wanted to stay until he and Hermione's disagreements were put to bed (and maybe they could go to bed as well), he knew better than to ignore a summons. There was too much at stake to start making stupid mistakes. Remembering the way her curls tickled his nose and with the scent of her lavender shampoo still enduring, he touched his Mark with his wand to Disapparate away.

When his feet landed on the new ground he was startled by how similar the location was to the one he had just left. He stood near the ocean in front of another cottage. Although quite a bit larger than the one he and Hermione called home, Antonin was struck by the resemblances. Considering the trip did not take him long at all, he assumed that he couldn't have travelled very far at all from his own Cornish cottage. It would've been another peaceful, idyllic location if the area hadn't been swarming with masked Death Eaters.

A strikingly attractive blonde woman was being dragged out the front door by two of his comrades. She was screaming in a confusing mixture of English and French. Tears were streaked down her beautiful face, but Antonin was able to understand her pleas to not harm her baby. He surveyed the area for another captive. It wasn't until he stalked closer to the hostage and her captors that he saw the enormous swell of her belly. _Have we really gotten so low that we are kidnapping terrified, heavily pregnant witches?_ He didn't even need someone else to confirm his internal thoughts. Of course they had. And this certainly wasn't the first expecting woman he'd witnessed attacked.

He was having a much more difficult time understanding the actions of the group he'd willingly been a part of for the majority of his existence.

"There's no else in the cottage, Mr. Dolohov," one of the newer recruits announced.

The masked child was deferring to him as if he were the one in charge of the mission. It made little sense. Certainly he was the most senior of all assembled. If he didn't count the fact that Rodolphus Lestrange was still very much alive, he was the Death Eater with the longest tenure of service with the Dark Lord. Regardless of that fact, he had no prior knowledge of the raid. He had been aware that they were simply waiting on the last hostage to be apprehended before the Dark Lord's plan could be put into place. The poor, sobbing woman must have been the wife to the Weasley bastard who almost killed him at Azkaban. Ordinarily he might be petty enough to hold that fact against her, but seeing her terror for her unborn child was enough to turn Antonin's stomach.

"Would you like us to all return to Hogwarts with the prisoner, sir?" the recruit asked. "Or should we continue to secure the area?"

Why had he been dragged away from his own home for this? Most of the work had already been completed before he arrived. It felt almost as if he was summoned for no discernible reason. Certainly he had been of no assistance from the moment he arrived. Turning away from the frightened part-veela, he addressed the recruit directly.

"What were your orders?"

"To apprehend the woman and return her to Hogwarts."

"Then I suggest you take her immediately to Hogwarts," Antonin replied.

The Death Eaters holding on to the woman Disapparated from the location as soon as the words came out of his mouth. There were still about a dozen others wandering around the location. He ordered them all to search the home for any potential leads or clues about the rebels. They scurried around the quaint cottage like a mischief of incompetent rats. Within the hour the entire building had been searched from the attic to the cellar. Nothing of any value could be discovered about the rebels. As the de facto leader of their group, he ordered everyone to return to the castle to await further orders.

His first stop at Hogwarts was to the temporary home of the hostages. He wanted to see with his own eyes that the Weasley woman hadn't been harmed during her transport. Whatever the Dark Lord was planning for her would be impossible if she were to die of a late-term miscarriage. Flora Carrow glared in his direction when he entered the area near the cells. She was keeping guard and seemed as if she would've rather cursed him than step aside to allow him to enter.

Once inside he was pleased to see that there was not a single Death Eater past the guarded door. He knew it would be easier to inspect the captives without an audience. The first cell held a rather exhausted looking blonde woman holding on to a sleeping baby. She narrowed her brown eyes when their gazes met. He'd heard enough from Hermione to know that he was being stared down by the lovely Mrs. Neville Longbottom. With a curt nod in her direction, he moved towards the next cell.

"Hey, Dolohov, do you have any idea just what the _fuck_ we are all doing down here?" demanded Draco Malfoy.

"Language, Malfoy!" admonished Mrs. Longbottom.

"Sod off, Abbott. He's just a baby. He doesn't know what I'm saying."

Antonin was reminded strongly of those last few months before Harry Potter's death. Draco and the rest of his family appeared increasingly worried and haggard as their favor with the Dark Lord fell further and further. In the second cell, the young Malfoy sat on the rickety cot with the most defeated expression on his countenance that Antonin had ever seen. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair rumpled. He was a man who seemed to have given up.

"I'm not sure, Malfoy," he answered honestly.

"Can't be good though, can it?"

He just shook his head in response to the young man's question. It seemed unlikely that the Dark Lord was gathering up the loved ones of the Undesirables and placing them in dank cells for the purpose of giving them a large sum of money or sending them on an extended holiday to the South Pacific. Whatever his evil master was concocting, it was most assuredly _not_ good.

"Sloane thinks that you can be trusted," Draco continued. "I don't really buy it. My father has warned me about you for as long as I can remember."

"Can you trust _me_ at least, Draco?" Ryan Sloane called from the third cell.

"Not really, Sloane. I hardly know you. Just because my father trusts you doesn't mean I do."

Antonin was more than a little surprised to find that the Hufflepuff he'd had one conversation with and cursed on two separate occasion believed he was a wizard that could be trusted. Was there something wrong with the man? Were all Hufflepuffs simply too trusting?

"Regardless," Draco began again. "Can you get a message to my father?"

"Maybe." He would make no promises.

"Tell him not to do anything stupid like try to rescue me. If this ends the way I suspect it will, I would much rather he spend his time making certain that my son and his mother are safe. Luna and Xeno are a hell of a lot more important than I am."

"I will see what I can do."

He moved on further down the line of cells. Ryan was standing at the front waiting for his appearance. A warm smile crossed the man's features at his appearance. It made Antonin feel ill at ease. He couldn't explain why.

"How is Hermione?" Ryan asked if they were two acquaintances who ran into each other on the street after a long absence.

"She is doing well." He struggled with himself for a moment before he blurted out the next sentence. "She contacted Shacklebolt to let him know where you were."

"That was rather reckless of her, don't you think?"

A burst of shocked laughter burst out of Antonin's throat. He was certainly not expecting that response.

"I could not agree more," he replied. "We discussed her recklessness at some length last night."

"Bloody Gryffindors. I've got one just like her at home."

It felt all at once bizarre and completely natural to be laughing with the man in the humid dungeon. Antonin was impressed that despite being a prisoner in less than ideal accommodations, Ryan Sloane was able to keep a positive expression on his face and continue to joke around about his partner. Their conversation would've continued if they hadn't been interrupted by the arrival of Salazar Selwyn.

"Antonin, what are you doing down here?" the Keeper of the Keys asked. He seemed suspicious of the elder man's presence in the dungeons.

"I came to make certain that the idiots I ordered to bring the French whore back to the castle did as I commanded," Antonin barked in response. How dare _that_ idiot question him for any reason?

Sal's cheeks flushed the lightest red at his admonishment.

"Of course. She was brought here a little over an hour ago and placed in the last cell," Sal answered.

"Was she unharmed? My orders were that she be unharmed."

"Yes, she is fine. I made certain myself."

Antonin spun away from Ryan's cell. He would've preferred to verify with his own eyes that the very pregnant woman was all right, but it might have appeared suspicious.

"We have everything under control here now. The Dark Lord asked me to dismiss you. He wants you to return to your own captive and make certain she is well."

Something stirred in Antonin's stomach.

 _"Always trust your gut feelings, zhizn moya. They won't lie to you as often as people will."_

His mother's familiar words about trusting his intuition passed through his mind. He wasn't sure what, but he knew something was terribly wrong. Ignoring the surprised look on Sal's face, Antonin pushed past the man at a rapid speed. Flora hardly had time to pin another glare on her face before he was too far away to see. Every single soul he passed on his way to the Entrance Hall practically leapt out of his path. No one seemed eager to impede the obviously determined man's progress.

He was already calling out Hermione's name before he even pulled the front door completely open. Once inside the living room, he stopped shouting for her when he saw an unnerving sight. Rodolphus was lying on the sofa with Theo and Thorfinn hovering over him. Hermione was nowhere to be seen.

"What's going on?" he asked.

All three men looked like they were going to be sick. None of them were in a hurry to answer his question. Before he could demand that _someone_ tell him what was happening, Rodolphus spoke up from his spot on the sofa.

"Hermione has been taken."

Antonin didn't trust his ears at first. He simply stared at the animagus, no doubt with his mouth open.

"Hermione and I went for a walk along the beach," Rodolphus explained. His voice was weaker than it usually was which would've ordinarily caused Antonin some concern. In that moment, however, all thoughts were focused on his witch. "I was off chasing some birds…"

He seemed embarrassed by his admission. Antonin rolled his eyes and urged him to continue. Everyone knew the man enjoyed chasing birds in his canine form. There was nothing to be ashamed of.

"I ran a little further away than I intended. When I turned around, someone had Hermione. He was tall and blonde. I assumed at first it was Thorfinn playing a trick on her, but I could hear her voice. She was frightened."

"Who was it?" Antonin demanded.

"We think it was Cormac McLaggen," added Theo. "He was a Gryffindor a year ahead of Hermione and me. Rod heard Hermione yell 'McLaggen' and I caught a glimpse of him out the window before he Disapparated them away."

"How could you let him take her?" Antonin shouted at the wizard still lying on the sofa. He was a powerful wizard who should've been able to take down a mere child.

Thorfinn stepped between Rodolphus and the irate Antonin. Both men were of a similar height. The younger might have had a few more stone on him, but Antonin was not intimidated.

"The McLaggen arsehole crucio'd Rod," Thorfinn said, his voice low and dangerous. "He didn't exactly have a choice."

"I should've transformed when I first saw him," Rodolphus spat. "By the time he removed the curse from me I didn't have the strength to transform."

"Thorfinn and I tried to get down to the beach, but we were not fast enough," Theo explained. "Everything happened very fast."

Antonin didn't know what to do. He hated the feeling of helplessness that was plaguing him. He'd never heard of the kid that attacked Hermione. What was his motivation for taking his witch? If he ever found him, he would regret this day.

"We were wondering if it might have been a Resistance rescue," declared Thorfinn.

"I don't think it was. He was too angry." Rodolphus was green and still trembling. "I shouldn't have gotten so far away from her. This is my fault."

"No, it's not," Thorfinn and Antonin said in unison. The two men stared at each other with narrowed eyes before Thorfinn continued his thought. "Princess is always getting herself in trouble. It was bound to happen. How long has it been since she was last attacked? She was due."

None of the wizards appreciated his attempt at humor. Realizing he was not helping to lighten the tension in the room, Thorfinn shrugged his shoulders. Antonin fought the desire to curse him. He knew that the younger wizard cared deeply about Hermione, _too_ deeply. No doubt this was his way of trying to deal with the situation without breaking apart from the strain.

"What about the tracking spell you put on Hermione, Rodolphus?" he asked.

"Hermione made me take it off. She said it was 'creepy'."

"Fuck."

Antonin crossed the room the perch where his owl was attempting to nap. He scribbled a quick note to Reina Rowle, attached it to the annoyed animal's leg and essentially threw the bird out the open window. He needed to talk to Lucius. As much as he hated to seek out the man's company, he had to know if the Resistance was behind this kidnapping. If they were, at least he could rest knowing that she was with people who loved and cared about her. If they weren't, he needed to find those responsible and rip their spleens out through their throats.

They only had to wait a short time for the silvery opossum patronus to float through the window. The first time Thorfinn had ever seen his sister's patronus since they started their little rebel group he'd laughed like a maniac. He couldn't resist teasing his sister for the odd animal that the charm produced. Unoffended, Reina stated that he was jealous that he was unable to produce one himself. Hermione came to the girl's defense to explain that possum meant Reina was confident, flexible, strategic and comfortable with her true self. She then further explained that that those with possum patronuses are often underestimated but have many hidden depths and talents. Reina smirked in her brother's face before quietly thanking Hermione for her impressive knowledge of patronus meanings.

 _"Meet me at the gates of Malfoy Manor, Antonin. I will take you to Lucius."_

Antonin rushed towards the front door. Thorfinn reached out to grab his arm to stop him.

"I'm coming with you."

"Fine." Antonin didn't have time to argue.

"I'll stay here with Rod," offered Theo. "Will you let us know if you find out anything?"

The two wizards exited quickly after promising not to keep the other two in the dark. They Dispparated the moment they were both outside the protective wards of the cottage. Reina was standing just inside the gates patiently waiting for their arrival.

"Please come with me," she said, pulling them both through the iron gates quickly. "We cannot linger very long out in the open."

They followed the young woman on a walk to the east end of the estate just past the formal gardens. Generations of Malfoys had chosen to leave a large section of their lands in their natural, wild state. Reina led the men through the thick trees for at least two hundred yards. Just as Antonin was about to get frustrated and demand she tell them where they were headed, he felt the cloaking wards. His extensive experience with wards meant that he had learned how to tell the difference just in the feel of the energy.

"Just through here. It might be a little uncomfortable for just a moment," directed Reina. She grasped each man's arm to lead them through the ring of protective and cloaking enchantments. They were surprised when a substantial caretaker's cottage instantly came into view. "We've been staying here. No one from the Ministry or from… well, you know, even thought to check the surrounding lands after they checked the manor."

Antonin didn't want to be impressed, but damn it, he was. Lucius and Reina had essentially been hiding in plain sight this entire time. Certainly he wouldn't have expected them to stay so close to the grounds when the entire country was searching for them.

"This is certainly unexpected. Please come inside."

Lucius was exceedingly polite. Antonin wanted to punch him in the face.

"Let's not waste each other's time, Lucius," Antonin said when the man tried to lead his guests to a comfortably appointed living room. "I want to know if the Resistance is responsible for Hermione's kidnapping."

Reina gasped. Lucius' jaw dropped open. It was evident that neither of them was aware of their purpose for visiting.

"Miss Granger was kidnapped?" Lucius asked Thorfinn directly. When Rowle nodded his head, Lucius turned his attention back to Antonin. "I know nothing about a planned kidnapping. I was just talking to Neville and Kingsley this morning. They said nothing about a planned rescue, but I will meet with them to find out what I can."

Lucius swept out of the cottage after kissing Reina. Thorfinn sneered at the affectionate gesture. He was still uncomfortable with his baby sister and the once feared and renowned Death Eater. Reina did her best to keep her guests occupied while they waited for Lucius' return. It wasn't an easy task. She engaged her older brother in some inane conversation that Antonin had no desire to be a part of. He simply paced the living room, alternating between staring out the windows and into the fireplace.

"No one authorized a kidnapping," Lucius announced the moment he stepped through his front door almost an hour later. "Everyone else is shocked and worried about Miss Granger as well."

"What took you so long?" Antonin demanded, not caring that he was being remarkably rude to the man who had just done him a huge favor.

"We were searching for Cormac McLaggen," Lucius answered, unbothered by his terse question. "No one can find him."

It was clear. Cormac McLaggen, whoever the fuck the arsehole was, had to be the spy that the Dark Lord was talking about.

"Lucius, I recommend that you tell all of the Resistance leaders to change any passcodes, security enchantments or Secret-kept places known to McLaggen. He is a spy. He is the one who has been passing information to the Dark Lord."

Antonin wasn't sure where McLaggen would've taken Hermione, but he knew that he would likely get more answers going straight to the Castle. He thanked Lucius and Reina for their help before hastening back to the front gates of the estate.

Charles Yaxley was waiting for him in the Entrance Hall. He stood facing the massive front door to the castle, leaned up against the end of the staircase. No one else was in sight. The students had already gone home for the Christmas holidays and wouldn't return for another couple of weeks at least.

"I had a feeling you would return," Yaxley announced.

Antonin didn't want to deal with the man. Too often lately he'd spoken to him in half-truths and riddles. He knew Antonin was involved in _something_ , but he wasn't clear what that was. Only that he seemed to want in. Antonin had trouble believing he could trust a man willing to throw his lot in with a suspected traitor.

"What do you know, Yaxley?" he demanded.

"There's a new recruit being Marked upstairs," Yaxley answered, infuriating Antonin further.

"I don't care, Yaxley! What do you know?"

Yaxley simply smiled. Antonin was torn between ripping the wizard's head off of his shoulders with his bare hands or with a spell. Before he could act on any of his violent desires, a rather pale faced man Antonin didn't recognize came stumbling down the stairs clutching his left arm with a pained expression spread across his features. Another blasted recruit. Another name to add to their 'Unredeemable' list. It was all growing rather tiresome.

"Now, McLaggen, it wasn't _that_ bad," laughed Yaxley.

Antonin felt his hand grasp the boy around the neck before he even was aware he was moving. Squeezing the arse's windpipe, he spat demands for answers in his petrified face. McLaggen struggled to speak. The entire exchange only lasted a few short moments before Yaxley was pulling Antonin off of the newest Death Eater.

"What did you do with Hermione?" he demanded, fighting to shrug off Yaxley's grip.

"I simply did as the Dark Lord instructed me," McLaggen answered before running out of the castle.

Yaxley refused to loosen his grip on Antonin.

"Ignore the boy. He doesn't have your witch. Just like the rest of us he was only following orders."

Sensing he wasn't about to take off running after McLaggen, Yaxley released his hold.

"You are going to need my help soon," he said. The strangeness of the statement caused Antonin to turn towards his captor. It caught him off guard. Yet another riddle. "It will be made available. I suggest that you and your allies figure out a way to get the other Ministry departments to cooperate. Do you have anyone with influence over the Minister?"

Antonin shook his head. Not that he was aware of anyway. He didn't understand what Yaxley was getting at. Was he expecting there to be some kind of full-scale attack by the Ministry? Was he hoping to use the Resistance and others like them to take control away from the Dark Lord? He didn't understand Yaxley's motives and therefore couldn't trust the man.

"Antonin, the Dark Lord wants to see you."

Sal Selwyn slipped into the Entrance Hall without either of the other men noticing his arrival. Refusing an invitation from the Dark Lord was tantamount to suicide. Antonin nodded once to Yaxley before following Sal up the stairs. Neither said a word for the entire journey to the Headmaster's Office. It was a familiar route that Antonin could've walked in his sleep.

"He is alone in there," Sal said at the entrance to the spiral staircase. "He requested to speak to you on your own."

That was never a comforting realization. He used the journey up the stairs to clear his mind and attempt to control his raging temper. If the Dark Lord chose to look into his mind, he would be displeased with what he saw. When he was satisfied that his Occlumency would keep him protected, Antonin pushed open the door to the office. His master was seated behind the enormous desk. At the Dark Lord's acknowledgement, Antonin crossed the office to kiss his master's robe hem.

"I wished to thank you for keeping the Mudblood safe until she was needed, Antonin."

"My Lord?'

"You did not expect this to be _permanent_ , did you, Antonin? Oh, my dear boy."

The office rang with the discordant sound of the Dark Lord's laughter. He would never get used to the way his ear drums itched and burned at the sensation. Antonin kept his face as impassive as possible until the screeching ended.

"My oldest and most loyal servant must have a partner more acceptable than a filthy whore with Muggle blood. I recommend you turn your affections towards a more suitable candidate next time."

He was dismissed from the office with the understanding that he would never see Hermione again.

* * *

Cormac's hand was cutting off the circulation to her arm. She couldn't stand him touching her again. Not enough time had passed between the last time she was alone with the stupid boy. There probably would never be enough time pass before she ceased to be embarrassed by her past association with him. Her sixth year had been a miserable year, but that wasn't a good enough excuse to allow a cretin like Cormac McLaggen to take liberties with her in empty broom cupboards and a couple of times in the Prefects' Bathroom. The way he had her body pulled against his chest for the Apparition brought back all manner of memories best left in the past.

"Thank you, McLaggen. Right on time."

Hermione opened her eyes the second their feet landed on solid ground to find herself face to face with Rabastan Lestrange. A quick survey of her surroundings showed her to be back on his estate grounds. She hoped that she would never be forced to return to his manor. Cormac pulled her through the open gates straight to the disgusting man.

"I suggest you head on to Hogwarts now, son. The Dark Lord is waiting for you."

He released his hold on her arm. Without another word, Cormac exited through the gates and Disapparated. Hermione would never be sorry to see him go. Of course she didn't exactly care to be left alone with Rabastan. The manner in which his eyes were roving over her body made her feel underdressed even in her three layers and winter cloak.

"I should've known he would turn out to be on the wrong side," she muttered mostly to herself.

"How well do you know our mutual friend?"

"He's not a friend. We were at school together, but we were not friends."

Rabastan leaned down to whisper directly in her ear.

"That's not what he said, my dear. He said that he knew you quite _intimately_."

"He's also a disgusting liar." Except for when he was telling the truth.

"Why does it seem that so many other luckier souls have been able to enjoy your charms, but you have never shared them with me?"

She shuddered at his question. He was truly a disgusting individual. How could he be the brother to the sweet Rodolphus? They were as different as possible. Not once had she ever felt uneasy in his older brother's presence. Not once had she ever felt at ease in his. Rabastan grasped her arm in his hand. At least his touch was softer than McLaggen's.

"Let's get you inside, pet. It is too cold to linger outside for too long. Your poor cheeks are as red as a tomato."

He escorted her down the familiar walkway to the front door. It had only been a few months since she was last in his home, but it felt like an entirely different lifetime. So much had happened since the night Antonin drug her out of bed to rush to their unfinished cottage. Rabastan kept a running commentary of the state of the manor going as they climbed the familiar staircase and walked down the familiar corridor. She wasn't surprised when he pushed open the door the room she used to share with Antonin. It might have been comforting to be back in accustomed surrounds if she knew that Antonin would be there to. Somehow she knew that whatever plan Rabastan and McLaggen were involved in, Antonin wasn't.

"I believe it should go without saying that you will be unable to escape," Rabastan said as he closed the door to the room. "I know you had the freedom of the entire house and grounds when you lived here last, but I'm afraid I will have to keep you confined to this single suite."

"How long will I be here?"

Rabastan placed both of his hands on her shoulders. The close proximity to the deviant man made her exceedingly nervous. She knew his reputation, knew how often he used to sneak into her bedroom when she was alone.

"You are my guest, Hermione. Please try to enjoy yourself."

"I hardly think that will be possible."

He ran his right hand through her curls. She shuddered once more at the contact

"You are my _personal_ guest this time. I assure you, this will be very enjoyable for both of us."

"Won't your horrible wife mind?"

He laughed at her question.

"Isla will not be a problem. She has everything she's ever wanted from me. The status of my name, the key to my vault and a baby in her belly to keep her position secure. What I choose to do and with whom I choose to do it is no longer her concern."

Hermione grew even more frightened when she peered into his darkened eyes. He wrapped both arms around her back to pull her flush against his chest. She closed her eyes and desperately tried not to think too long on the hardness she was feeling against her stomach. His breathing had grown a bit heavier, his voice a bit lower.

"Think about all of the fun we can have without Antonin or that blasted dog interrupting us. Did you know that I can't even walk past the library without my trousers growing tight? All I can think of is your delicious naked body and the wonderful sounds you made that night with Thorfinn on top of you."

He crashed his lips onto hers. The sudden assault on her person caused her to gasp. Rabastan used the moment of surprise to invade her mouth with his tongue. Hermione struggled against him, but it was no use. His grip on her was too strong. After a short kiss that felt like it lasted much longer than it actually did, Rabastan released her with a laugh.

"I have a few responsibilities that I must take care of this morning, but I will return later this evening. I suggest you get some rest before I return. I have so many plans for you."

His lips brushed against her forehead. Hermione tried not to cry in front of him. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction. The moment he shut the door behind him, she threw herself down on the bed she used to share with Antonin to sob. She allowed herself sixty seconds to fall apart before she had to stop. It would serve no purpose if she spent every second in tears.

"Rosie?"

The bossy house-elf Apparated into her room only moments after she called her name. Excited to see that the young witch had returned to her care, Rosie threw her tiny arms around her waist in greeting.

"Rosie, can you get a message to Rodolphus telling him where I am?"

She dropped her arms and stepped backwards from Hermione a couple of steps. Her bright, round eyes widened even further in fear.

"Master Rabby wouldn't like Rosie to tell."

"Did he order you _not_ to tell anyone I'm here?"

Hermione could tell that she was frightening the elderly house-elf. She didn't like to worry the creature. It went against everything that she had believed in during more idyllic times in her young life.

"No," Rosie answered in a whisper.

"And isn't Rodolphus still the master of this house and the head of this family?"

"Yes."

"Rodolphus will want to know. He was hurt earlier and…"

"Master Roddy is hurt?!"

The witch had to cover her ears with her hands at the shrill shriek from the elf. Rosie was wringing her hands and enormous tears were dropping from her worried eyes.

"Yes, Rosie. He was hurt earlier today by a very bad man. He was trying to protect me," she explained.

"Rosie must go to him immediately!"

She snapped her fingers and faded out of view. Part of Hermione felt a tiny bit guilty for manipulating the house-elf. Mostly though she was thankful that the creature cared enough about Rodolphus to face the wrath of Rabastan to check on him. Hoping that it would only be a short time before she returned, Hermione occupied her mind and hands with the removal of all but the most necessary of layers. The room was stifling with a large fire. A couple of books were sitting on the nightstand that Antonin used to claim. She settled onto his old side of the bed to read.

His discarded book had been discarded for very valid reasons. After only a few pages Hermione felt her eyes grow heavy. She must have fallen asleep because the reappearance of Rosie startled her enough to fall out of the bed. Her knee banged hard enough against the hardwood floor to make her eyes tear up.

"Oh, no, Missy Hermione! Rosie is sorry. She did not mean to scare you."

Rosie's cheeks were covered in her streaming tears once again. She ran towards the nightstand to slam her tiny hands in the drawer. Sensing her plans before she put them in action, Hermione was able to grasp the little elf around the waist. Rosie kicked the air in her struggle to punish herself.

"Rosie, stop! You did nothing wrong. Please don't punish yourself."

When the whimpering stopped, Hermione set the elf back down on the ground. Rosie turned her huge, round eyes to her charge.

"Master Roddy is all right now," she announced. "He was still weak, but I made him his favorite lunch and his favorite biscuits. He said that Missy Hermione needs to try to remain calm. He was very happy that Rosie came to check on him."

"Good. I'm glad to hear he is fine. Was anyone else there with him?"

"The big, blonde wizard that used to come to visit Master Rabby was there and another wizard Rosie didn't know. He was kind. He asked Rosie to give you a message. He said, 'Tell her that Theo said her harem was figuring out a plan to get her back.'"

Hermione laughed at the message. Instantly she regretted her outburst when she saw that Rosie was offended. She tried very hard to reassure the elf that she wasn't laughing at her but at the content of the message. When she finally admitted that Theo was making a joke, Rosie gave her a shaky smile.

"Rosie is going downstairs to find some lunch for Missy Hermione."

She passed a dismal day locked up in her old bedroom. Hours felt like days. By the time night fell outside, she was exhausted just by the fear she was still feeling and also from sheer boredom. She had to resist the urge to summon Rosie multiple times through the day. It was too tempting to ask her to check on Rodolphus to find out if they had a plan. If Rabastan or his horrible wife grew suspicious of why their house-elf kept leaving the manor, it could be a disaster for Rodolphus.

The door to the bedroom opened late that night. Hermione was sprawled across the bed drifting in and out of a fitful sleep. When the bed dipped down behind her, she instantly woke up in a terror. She tried to crawl away in the opposite direction. Two strong hands gripped her arms preventing her from moving very far.

"Get off of me!"

Rabastan's cool laughter felt like a bucket of ice water running down her spine. There was no mistaking his intentions. She rolled her entire body to the side in an attempt to dislodge his hands. It was a successful maneuver until the wizard straddled her hips, pinning her to the bed.

"I've always enjoyed a little bit of a challenge," he purred into her ear. His tongue travelled on her bare skin from below her ear to her neck. "You can fight me all you want, Hermione. It won't matter. You will give in eventually."

She was certain that she had never been more afraid in her entire life. Every other terrifying moment in her life paled in comparison to this one. The feeling of being completely at the mercy of a much more powerful man with nefarious motives was worse than any of the times she'd been attacked in the past. At least then she was equipped with a wand to defend herself with.

Rabastan continued his assault on her person with his wandering hands. She couldn't believe there were actually women in this world that fell all over themselves to be granted this same attention from the man hovering above. He was disgusting. Any woman that wanted him must have zero self-esteem.

"Fuck, you are beautiful."

While he was struggling to remove her jumper, Hermione reached over to the nightstand. Antonin used to complain about the hideous vase that always found its way back to his nightstand even after he moved it. Rabastan was too distracted to notice her grasp the heavy crystal vase. He was trying to rip her bra open when the atrocious decoration made contact with his temple.

It was enough to allow Hermione the chance to get off of the bed. At least on two feet she had an opportunity to evade her attacker. Rabastan cursed and grasped his head. He leapt off of the bed to catch his prey. The gleam in his eyes became almost feral. Hermione gulped. If it were possible, he was even more frightening when he was angry. He chased her around the room for several minutes.

"Fuck!"

He clutched his left forearm to his chest.

"This is not nearly over, _pet_ ," he warned on his way to the bedroom door. "I have always wanted to put you under the Imperius Curse. How about we try it when I get back? Think about all of the fun we are going to have when I return."


	36. Chapter 36

_Author's Note: Be forewarned, this chapter is full of dialogue. I find chapters like this kind of annoying, but it was important to the plot. You will understand what I mean when you read through. Everyone talks too much!_

Chapter Thirty Six

Antonin rolled the Dark Lord's words around in his head for the entire walk through the castle and grounds to the Apparition point beyond the gates. It had taken all of his self-preservation senses to keep from launching himself across the desk towards his master's throat and his almost certain death. How dare he use such words to describe Hermione? He would be the luckiest man in their shitty world if he had the opportunity to spend his life with her. _Filthy, Muggle whore_? Just remembering the words caused his heartbeat to pound in his ears.

Part of him still expected the door to the cottage to be thrown open at his arrival. Hermione usually tried to greet him when he returned from a summons during the day. It reassured her that he was safe when she could see him immediately. Antonin stared at the closed front door for several moments willing it to open and prove that morning had been one giant, fucking nightmare.

The other three members of what Theo jokingly referred to as 'Hermione's Harem' were all just inside the living room. Thorfinn had returned at some point to pilfer more of Antonin's favorite whiskey. Ordinarily he would at minimum raise a disgruntled eyebrow at the theft, but he didn't have the energy. Rodolphus and Theo were silently seated on the sofa staring off into the flickering flames of the fireplace. They looked up and Thorfinn ceased his drinking and pacing at the sound of the heavy door creaking open.

"We know where she's at," Rodolphus announced.

Antonin's stomach lurched at the simple sentence. Before he could ask the man to explain himself in further detail, the horrid little house-elf that used to annoy him endlessly entered the room from the kitchen bearing a plate of fresh biscuits bigger than she was.

"She's at the manor," Antonin said, needing no further hints.

"Yes," Rodolphus answered. "Before you run off to try to pull her out of there, you should know that Rabastan has secured the wards."

"That's not a problem for me."

"Antonin, we all know your talents with wards but I assure you that you will not be able to break through those. He has them set up to not allow anyone except him in or out," he continued to explain. "He even sent that horrible woman he married back to the US for a short time to stay with her mother."

Antonin didn't want to contemplate how serious and dire the situation had become now that Hermione was completely alone with Lestrange.

"But the elves can obviously leave," Antonin suggested realizing he was grasping at quite flimsy straws. "She was saved by a house-elf once before when your blushing bride was torturing her. Can Rosie not bring her through the wards?"

Rodolphus shook his head.

"Rabastan forbid the elves from letting Hermione out. Even I can't override that order as much as I would like to."

Thorfinn pushed a full glass of whiskey into Antonin's hand. It was a bad idea considering it wasn't even lunchtime yet, but he didn't care. The glass was emptied in only three swallows.

"I saw McLaggen at Hogwarts," he declared.

The three men all paused to stare at him following his revelation.

"Is he dead?" Thorfinn demanded, his fair complexion bright red with rage.

"No, but he soon could be if we wanted. He just accepted his Mark."

"Not a problem, mate. I'll be happy to kill him next," offered Thorfinn.

"I had another strange conversation with Yaxley. He told me that his department would be available to help soon. He also encouraged me to figure out how to get the other departments on our side."

"He thinks we can somehow convince the Ministry to turn on the Dark Lord?" asked Theo, his disbelief evident in his tone.

Antonin shrugged his shoulders, a terrible habit he'd picked up after too long in close confines with Thorfinn.

"We need to contact the rebels," said Thorfinn. He ignored the three identical expressions of disgust to continue his thoughts. "There's too much at stake now. For all of us. We are going to have to work together."

No one said anything for several minutes. All four of the wizards were stuck in their own minds. Finally they all voiced their somewhat reluctant agreement one by one. Thorfinn crossed the crowded room to pen a terse note to his sister. He stayed at the open window watching the owl disappear into the distance.

"It'd be a lot bloody easier if we could send patronuses like Hermione and Reina," Thorfinn muttered.

It was a common complaint that they all agreed with. The Order's method of sending messages was efficient and elegant. They had all tried on numerous occasions to complete the notoriously tricky charm. The only one of them that had been able to produce anything at all was Theo and his patronus was only a weak, formless mass that dissipated after only a couple of seconds. Everyone else had too much darkness in them to complete the Light spell.

" _Finnie, come back. Bring everyone. We need to meet."_

Reina's odd patronus appeared so suddenly that the content of its message was almost missed. Rodolphus stood from the sofa still trembling slightly. Antonin wasn't sure how much different the Cruciatus Curse felt while as an animal, but every single man present in that cottage had experience shaking off the lingering aftereffects to push on through to the next summons.

They all met Reina at the gates again to be led through the cloaking wards. She seemed frazzled and Antonin could swear her eyes were filled with unshed tears. He briefly wondered what was wrong with her, but when her older brother wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder he ceased his worry. It was her family's place to provide her comfort. He had enough on his own mind to think about anyone other than Hermione.

He really wished Reina had provided some hint of what they were about to walk into. Some warning that perhaps the end of their journey to the old caretaker's cottage would be less than desirable, but she said nothing. Simply held the front door open and allowed them to enter straight into the heart of the Resistance.

All conversations ceased the moment the four Death Eaters entered the cottage. There were at least a dozen members of the Resistance scattered around the room narrowing their eyes at the new arrivals. Every single Undesirable was present: Longbottom, Shacklebolt, Lucius, Weasley, Dumbledore, Other Weasley. There were more Weasleys present if their bright hair was an indication. Antonin recognized the patriarch of the notorious Blood traitor family seated on one of the couches with his eldest son seated next to him. His son's expression was filled with venomous hatred.

When the initial shock of the Death Eater entering their shared space wore off seconds later, the cottage became a chaotic maelstrom. Shouts of anger were hurled in their direction. Calls to have them removed followed. It seemed that everyone present had an opinion of just where the Death Eaters could spend eternity and just where they could shove their wands before leaving. Lucius failed to bring any sense of order to the gathering despite repeated tries. Antonin fought the urge to hex every single person beginning with Lucius. Rodolphus looked as if he would like nothing more than to transform into a dog and run away. Thorfinn was exchanging several particularly nasty insults with the Longbottom boy that made even Antonin's jaded ears burn. Theo stood back quietly observing the scene with a blank expression on his features.

A loud bang from someone's wand startled everyone into silence. When the smoke from the spell cleared, all eyes were on young Theo. He addressed the group in a calm, almost disinterested tone.

"We all want the Dark Lord to be defeated and we all have ones we love in his hands. Like it or not, we are all on the same side. This petty bickering is doing nothing but bringing them all closer to death."

Everyone present felt a tiny bit shamed by his words. At the very least no one could really argue with them. Lucius cleared his throat and turned to address Antonin directly.

"Antonin, do you believe it is safe for me to tell everyone gathered what you and the others have been up to recently?"

He shrugged his shoulders again. _Damn it, Thorfinn!_ The spell cast on the parchment prevented them from reporting their group to those who might wish them harm or want to stop them. He assumed that no one in that room was losing sleep over murdered Death Eaters.

"I think it will be all right assuming no one here is hostile to our cause," Antonin finally said.

"Excellent. I have been afraid to ask Miss Granger what might happen to me after I signed her charmed parchment."

George Weasley snorted. He vividly remembered the effect of Hermione's last charmed parchment.

"These gentlemen have been responsible for the deaths of at least a dozen active Death Eaters over the past several weeks."

Wide, disbelieving eyes turned back to the four uneasy men still standing in the entry. It was clear that there was a begrudging new respect from some of them. Lucius continued his rather detailed account of their activities. As more information was revealed more of the Resistance was impressed. No one interrupted his tale until the very end.

"So the murders of Crabbe and Goyle, those were these guys?" Aberforth Dumbledore asked.

Reina stepped out of Lucius' shadow to respond.

"No, I take full responsibility for those murders," she answered, pride evident in her tone. "And for Macnair too."

Dumbledore whistled in a show of respect and incredulity.

"Quite impressive, lass."

"Yes, it was," she spat. "And don't think I've forgotten what several of you said about me when Lucius tried to include me in your little exclusive Gryffindor Only club."

Antonin felt the corners of his mouth twitch up into a small smile at her declaration. He'd always liked the girl. It was a pity she was Rowle's sister. Even more of a pity that it looked as if she was going to be the next Mrs. Malfoy. _Tragic._

"I hope that this will prove once and for all that we are on the same side now," declared Lucius, hoping to calm his witch in the process. She had the almost identical rage-filled expression marring her porcelain skin that her elder brother had earlier in the day. "Antonin, you were at Hogwarts earlier. Can you provide any news about the hostages?"

Antonin cleared his throat before addressing the group. All eyes were on him. It was a sensation he'd never cared for.

"All of the hostages are being kept in the dungeons of the school. They have not been harmed. The Death Eaters are under orders to keep them protected."

"My wife is due any day now," Bill Weasley said, his eyes flashing with anger and fear. "Are you certain she is all right?"

"Yes, I've seen them all: Mrs. Longbottom and the baby, Mr. Sloane, Miss Johnson, Mrs. Weasley and Draco. Lucius, remind me later to give you a private message from your son."

Lucius nodded but Antonin noticed his face grow paler.

"What about Hermione?" asked Reina. "Where is she?"

All eyes were back on Antonin. He didn't know who half the people in the room were and frankly didn't care, but he could tell that they were all interested to know what had become of her.

"She was taken early this morning by Cormac McLaggen," Antonin proclaimed.

There were gasps and muttered swears from most of the Resistance. Only a couple seemed to not be surprised in the slightest. An attractive redhead that Antonin was certain he's seen before scoffed and announced to the room that she'd been saying all along that McLaggen couldn't be trusted.

"That's enough, Ginny," Arthur Weasley warned the girl who was obviously his daughter.

"No, Dad," she argued, her eyes flashing with anger. There was a lot of that going around the cottage. "I've been telling all of you for months that we should've _obliviated_ the arsehole and dumped him out in the North Sea. None of you believed me."

"Ginny, not now. This isn't the time."

The Weasley girl was not prepared to back down or meekly sit in the shadows. Antonin felt a surge of respect for the young woman.

"I told you how he tried to force himself on me after Azkaban, Bill, but you didn't seem to think that was a serious enough offense. 'Emotions were running high, Gin. We'd just had a major victory'."

"Ginny…" Bill began.

"'We need all the help we can get, Gin,'" she spat back. While her brother stuttered in an attempt to respond, Miss Weasley turned her full attention to Antonin. "So what did he do, Dolohov? Kidnapped 'Mione and sold all of our secret safe house locations to old Tom?"

Damn it, he couldn't help himself. Maybe it was his tendency to surround himself with opinionated, strong-willed women, but he liked Ginny Weasley. He could feel his face threatening to betray him by trying to force him to smile at the fierce young warrior maiden. If his heart hadn't been firmly held in Hermione's teeth, he might've had an embarrassing little crush on the girl. Remembering himself, Antonin cleared his throat.

"Yes, he took her to Rabastan Lestrange's manor and then reported to Hogwarts to accept a Dark Mark from the Dark Lord. He is the one who has been passing your whereabouts on. He is the one who told the Dark Lord where your loved ones could be found."

"Hermione is alone with Rabastan?" Reina asked quietly.

"Yes," Antonin confirmed. "We verified with the head house-elf that she is safe."

"For now." Reina turned her attention to her wizard. "Lucius, do you think we could use this opportunity to test out the theory we've been working on?"

Lucius smiled at her. He seemed to be thinking over her question before answering. Antonin could feel his impatience worsen. He wanted to know what they were talking about. Based on how everyone else was waiting to hear his response so were they.

"We believe we have figured out how to create a false summons through an individual Mark. It is tricky, but we were successful once with Draco," Lucius informed the group.

"To what purpose?" asked Antonin. He didn't see why a false summons would be helpful.

"To do whatever we can to keep that animal away from Hermione," Reina said. "No offense, Rodolphus."

"None taken, my dear. He is what you say he is, brother or not."

Rodolphus grasped Reina's hand to assure her he meant what he said. She smiled warmly at him before turning her full attention back to Antonin.

"Lucius and I may have figured out a way to keep Rabastan occupied and away from Hermione. We just need an active Mark to experiment with first."

He had no hesitation offering himself as a guinea pig for their Charms practice if it would keep his witch safe. At this point he was desperate and willing to try just about anything. Reina began reciting a series of chants in a language Antonin wasn't familiar with. He was so entranced watching her intricate wand movements that the sudden fierce burning of his Mark caught him completely by surprise. It felt harsher than he was used to, more like when the Dark Lord was being insistent or panicked. He pointed his wand to his Mark and Disapparated.

If his very life depended on it, he could not identify where his feet landed. He was in the middle of a grassy field. The sounds of Muggle cars zooming down the road could be heard off in the distance. In his years as a Death Eater one of the first lessons he was ever taught was to not question why the Dark Lord summoned. He lost count the number of times he'd Apparated to an unknown location without understanding why or where he was. A loyal Death Eater would simply figure out why they were summoned even if it took hours. The simplicity of dropping Rabastan into the middle of nowhere was brilliant. He would waste hours before conceding defeat.

Antonin was unable to Apparate back into the caretaker's cottage on his return. The closest he could get was just outside the estate grounds. He rushed quickly back on foot. His ears were assaulted with a cacophony of raised, angry voices when he crossed over the threshold. Reina Rowle was in the thick of it giving back every bit as much as she received. Antonin fought back another admirable smirk before trying to figure out why the room was back into chaos.

"What's happening?" he whispered to Theo. Thorfinn had been closer but before he could ask, the burly wizard stepped into the heat of the disagreement to physically pull his sister away from an arrogant looking Resistance member she'd been shouting at.

"Hufflepuff fight," Theo answered, not even trying to hide his amusement. "Macmillan made a comment Reina didn't like. Said that he never thought he'd live to see the day that a member of his House stooped to using Dark magic so openly. She shot back they were fighting an enemy that wouldn't hesitate to use Dark magic and maybe if the Resistance hadn't had their heads so far up their own self-righteous arses, the war could've been over by now."

"I'm sorry I missed so much," Antonin said, chuckling quietly.

"Not to worry, mate. The moment I get my hands back on my father's pensieve I'll show you the memory. I never would've guessed Reina knew so many filthy words."

His admiration of the witch was apparent. They stood back with the rest of the group watching the combined efforts of Thorfinn and Lucius in calming the irate woman. A couple of the Resistance members were doing what they could to pacify the Macmillan boy. It was several minutes longer before there was some semblance of order once more.

"Antonin, I ordered Rosie to keep an eye on Hermione at all times," Rodolphus said, ignoring the continued shouts. Thorfinn and Longbottom were once again hurling creative insults at each other with a rapidity that highly impressed Antonin. "She was ordered to find Reina immediately if Rabastan is alone with Hermione. It will take a few minutes to activate the false summons, but at this point it is better than nothing."

"Thank you, Rodolphus."

Theo seemed unwilling to break up the arguments still raging around them this time. He stood back leaned against the wall thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. It was only when Longbottom landed a fairly impressive right hook to Thorfinn's jaw that Reina and Macmillan ceased their own fight to break theirs up. Thorfinn clutched his reddened jaw with a familiar rage shining in his eyes. Thinking that Thorfinn murdering the poster boy of the Resistance might be detrimental to morale, Antonin cast a compulsion spell on him to come stand between Theo and him.

"Are we about done or should we do like the Muggle women do and find a pit of mud to wrestle in?" Arthur Weasley demanded on the group.

Theo and Thorfinn exchanged confused looks at Weasley's suggestion. Antonin admitted that he too was confused about women wrestling in mud. He made a mental note to remind himself to ask Hermione about this strange custom after they were reunited. His curiosity was piqued.

"Yes, let us get back on task," Lucius said, blinking hard and shaking his head. No doubt his curiosity had been piqued as well. "Antonin, we are all curious as to _why_ our loved ones are being held hostage? Do you have any further information?"

"Afraid not," Antonin admitted. "All I was able to get out of the Dark Lord when I asked was 'Love is a weakness. I am about to prove to those who would dare to rebel just how much of one it is.'"

Every face in the Resistance paled considerably at his remark. No one needed the quotation interpreted. The meaning was clear enough.

"I was approached by Yaxley, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He stated that something big was about to happen and when that day came, he would provide the DMLE for help."

Surprised whispers spread throughout the room. It seemed that overwhelmingly, most were unwilling to trust Yaxley's word. Antonin could sympathize. Certainly he had enough trouble on his own trusting the man.

"He also suggested that we figure out a way to get the other Ministry departments to help as well."

Bill Weasley stood up from his spot on the couch next to his father.

"My brother Percy was working on getting the Ministry department heads as allies, but his idea is somewhat controversial. Perhaps we can think of another…"

"I already had Percy put his plan into motion," Kingsley announced to the general consternation of the gathered Resistance leaders.

Whatever Percy Weasley's plan was, it was not well liked. Antonin and his group stood back to watch the Resistance bicker amongst themselves. It was discouraging to see that even their well-organized group had problems. How could they expect to defeat the Dark Lord and get their loved ones back at this rate? Antonin began formulating a backup plan in which he breached the Lestrange Manor wards, tortured Rabastan and saved Hermione. While it wasn't likely a practical plan, it did give him something to think on while the other side shouted.

"It's not appropriate, Kingsley!" shouted Bill Weasley.

"We're past that point now. We can't worry about what is appropriate and what isn't. Your wife's life is on the line. So is your child's."

Lucius stepped between the Resistance leaders to act as mediator. Both men calmed slightly at his urging.

"What is the plan, Kingsley?" Lucius asked. "It cannot hurt for all of us to at least be aware of it."

Kingsley turned to Aberforth Dumbledore to ask the elder wizard to bring the women back.

"All of them?" Aberforth asked.

"Not unless they all want to come. Just bring a couple. You know which two."

Aberforth nodded before rushing out the front door. Antonin was confused once again that horrible day. He was growing weary of the feeling.

"I have a confession I must make," Kingsley declared. "I have been in personal contact with Yaxley for months now."

Everyone was surprised.

"Can he be trusted?" asked Longbottom.

"Charles and I have known each other and worked together for many years. Just after Azkaban he approached me. I have no idea how he found me, but the wizard is good at his job. He's been passing information to me."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Let the man speak," Thorfinn called out.

Longbottom and Thorfinn continued to glare at each other across the room. It was apparent that neither of those men were ever going to be close friends.

"I absolutely trust the man," Kingsley continued. "He was placed under the Imperius Curse and forced to torture and kill his five year old daughter as a _punishment_. He has no more loyalty to his master. I vividly remember how proud and excited he was when she was born. I saw him broken, so yes, I absolutely trust him."

An uneasy silence fell over the room at Shacklebolt's horrible story. Longbottom at least seemed pacified by the former auror's explanation.

"What is this controversial plan of Mr. Weasley's?" Lucius asked.

Kingsley cleared his throat before he began his lengthy explanation.

"We have been aware that something big was to happen for some time even though we had no details. Yaxley encouraged me to figure out a way to get the Ministry heads on our side. I brought it up quietly with Percy. We all know about the ladies were rescued from the Umbridge Home."

Antonin could feel Thorfinn's entire body tense next to him. He thought it curious, especially when he realized the blonde was holding his breath as if afraid he would miss the next words spoken. Then he saw Theo and Thorfinn exchange silent glances that only made him more inquisitive.

"Some of those women had powerful sponsors. Ministry sponsors."

The mutters began anew. Thorfinn's complexion was steadily growing redder as he took short, staccato breaths.

"Percy wondered if we might not be able to use the influence of some of them to persuade the Ministry to join us."

The outrage was palpable.

"You want these women to influence their fucking rapists? How? Force them to sell their already violated bodies for a little bit of _influence_?"

Thorfinn's fury was at a level Antonin had never seen it at before and he'd been with the man in battle for their lives. Rowle's raw magic was radiating off of his skin. Antonin worried the kid might have a stroke if he didn't calm down soon.

"I told you it was controversial," Kingsley replied.

"No, it's fucking disgusting!"

Theo put his hand on Thorfinn's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Antonin hated that he could see the sense in the plan even it was horrible. He asked Kingsley to explain in detail what would be asked of these women.

"A conversation, that's all. Some of these men fancied themselves in love. We exploit that emotion."

Before Kingsley could go into any further detail the front door opened. Aberforth reentered the room with two rather pretty young witches that Antonin didn't know. One was about Hermione's age with straight brown hair and the other was a few years old with a head full of thick, dark curls and a pair of the most striking eyes Antonin had ever seen. Moments after they entered Antonin heard Thorfinn gasp.

"Lottie!"

The woman with the dark brown curls turned instantly in the direction of his voice. Her beautiful dark eyes widened in shock. She and Thorfinn couldn't stop staring at the other. Kingsley introduced the two girls to the group: Katie Bell and Charlotte Rushden. Neither of the names meant anything to Antonin, but it was apparent one of the witches meant a great deal to Thorfinn.

"We've already discussed this plan with several of the young ladies and overwhelmingly they've been in agreement to help," Kingsley explained.

Thorfinn and Charlotte were still staring at each other across the room. She was openly crying. His eyes were watery. Antonin was curious about their connection. Before he could think too long on what was obviously none of his business, Katie Bell stepped in front of the group.

"The Minister believes he is in love with me. I'll admit I've already freely exploited those feelings for extra protection. It's probably something I will come to regret in the future, but for now I feel no shame. I can guarantee that the Minister does whatever I ask him to do."

Several of the assembled scoffed at her statement in disbelief. They didn't believe influencing the top wizard in their government would be that easy. Undeterred by their reaction, Katie bell removed her bulky winter cloak. Her large belly indicated a late term pregnancy.

"I hold everything Pius has ever desired right here. He will do as I ask."

The murmurs stopped immediately. Charlotte Rushden broke her eye contact with Thorfinn long enough to step up next to Katie. She took the younger witch's hand in hers.

"When I was arrested a dear friend of mine used his influence as a Department Head to become my sponsor," Charlotte explained. Her eyes fell back on Thorfinn's. "He hated every moment regardless of his feelings for me, but he protected me. Other girls weren't so lucky."

Her gaze moved from Thorfinn to Theo. The wizard dropped his eyes to his feet.

"Robert convinced all of the other Department Heads and anyone else he trusted with access to the Umbridge Home to become a sponsor to protect as many girls as possible. I have little doubt that if I were to see him again I could get his help."

"Absolutely not!" Thorfinn shouted.

"Thorfinn, I appreciate your concern but you do not get to tell me what I can do."

The ensuing debate on whether or not to agree to move forward with this plan seemed to last forever. It seemed to Antonin that everyone in the Resistance expected to have their chance to voice their opinion. He hated how inefficient it was. With so many, there shouldn't have been so many voices. When they finally agreed that they were going to go forward with asking the rescued Umbridge girls to speak to their former sponsors, Antonin was ready to leave. It had been an excruciatingly long day and it wasn't even mid-afternoon.

Charlotte crossed the room only moments after the debates ended. Antonin was surprised to find that her first stop was Theo. She pulled the young wizard into her arms to hug him tightly. They exchanged several whispered words. The only ones that Antonin could make out were Charlotte's assurances that Ophelia was safe. Theo's voice cracked when he thanked her. She released Theo and stepped up to Thorfinn. Before she could say a single word, Thorfinn ran out the front door. She wasted no time in following behind.

"How soon can we put this into place?" Antonin asked the Resistance leaders.

"Immediately," answered Kingsley.

Soon after the group dispersed. It was apparent that the two groups did not want to mix. Any lingering conversations between the Resistance members were either held in whispers in the corner or delayed until they were outside in the trees.

"They will probably always hate us," Reina said to Antonin as they watched the last of the Weasleys exit. "Our children will never be friends, but there may be some hope for our grandchildren. I'd like to hope that the distrust and the feud won't go further than that."

Antonin wished he could agree. Of course the thought of his having any children and grandchildren to worry about mingling with the sanctimonious Resistance descendants wasn't a present concern. He had to find his witch before he'd even contemplate the future. Without Hermione he didn't want a family.

"I think we should charm your Mark, Antonin," Reina said. "You don't need to go back to that castle. It's too dangerous. If Yaxley is who he says he is, then we already have someone there."

He couldn't disagree.

"This will keep the Dark Lord from finding you," she continued.

"All right," he agreed.

He rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal his hated Mark. Reina's hand was cold, but gentle. She grasped his left arm in her left hand. Her wand was pointed directly at his Mark like he'd done a thousand times before to answer his damned summons. She was serious in her concentration. It didn't take long before his entire arm began to tingle. While the sensation was not painful, it was unpleasant. It was similar to what he imagined a million tiny hairy spiders running up and down his arm would feel like.

"That's it," Reina said with a smile when she pulled her wand away.

Antonin stared down at his glowing Mark. A sense of bittersweet melancholy threatened to overwhelm him. Yes, he was glad to no longer be at the beck and call of the madman, but he still couldn't help but feel strangely sad that an entire section of his life was now over. It was very likely that the remainder of his existence would not last much longer. Reina placed her hand on top of the glowing Mark. He stared up into her kind, warm eyes. She seemed to understand at least part of what he was experiencing.

"We should return to the cottage," Rodolphus suggested. "We can't just sit around waiting for whatever is going to happen next. We still have a list."

He hadn't thought about the fact that without an active Mark he was free to move around like the others. It would finally give him the opportunity to participate in some of the killings of his former comrades. Antonin did not want to analyze what that meant for him as an emotional human being that he was anxious to do his part.

"Thank you for everything, Reina," he said, kissing the witch on the cheek.

He was even charitable enough to shake Lucius' hand before he left. After giving the pompous windbag the message from his son about not risking his life to save his, Antonin followed Rodolphus and Theo out of the caretaker's cottage. Thorfinn had not yet returned from when he rushed out earlier, but none of them were worried. He would come home when he was ready.

"Fuck," Antonin muttered to himself. His cottage was _not_ Thorfinn's home. He couldn't believe he allowed his thoughts to even suggest that was anyone else's home. Hermione's Harem had been living there entirely too long.

Rodolphus was walking ahead of the other two by a few yards. He used the long walk as an excuse to transform back into his dog form. Antonin and Theo watched the dog run through the frozen grass with small smiles on their faces. They both were mildly jealous that they didn't have the ability to frolic with the same freedom. Their small group was about fifty yards from the cottage when Rodolphus abruptly transformed back into a human and turned around to walk back to Theo and Antonin. He had the faintest pink blush on his cheeks.

"Gentlemen, I believe we should take a short detour and head in another direction," he suggested.

He gave no explanation as to _why_ they should go out of their way. Simply took off in another track that would get them to the gates after a longer walk. Interested in what would cause Rodolphus to not want to continue in that direction, Theo continued in the same course. When he approached the same area, he smirked and turned back to follow Rodolphus. Antonin wasn't about to blindly follow without knowing why. He stalked off, lengthening his strides to get there faster.

A few meters off the beaten path Thorfinn had Charlotte Rushden pushed up against the trunk of a rather large tree. Their lips and their bodies were so close together it was hard to tell where she ended and he began. When Antonin caught sight of her hiked up skirt and Thorfinn's rather enthusiastic thrusts, he turned around abruptly. Their attempts at stifling their moans were unsuccessful. It seemed that whatever their past history was together, their current reconnection was going rather well.

"You couldn't have warned us, Rod?" Antonin asked, suppressing a laugh at the animagus' discomfort.

"I thought I was," Rodolphus replied with a sniff.

"No, Roddy, you definitely didn't prepare us for that," snorted Theo.

The three men continued their walk towards the gates of Malfoy Manor breaking the tension of the day with warm laughter. By the time they reached the Apparition point, Antonin's mind was on the next task. Now he could freely start killing the next names on the 'Unredeemable' List lying on his kitchen table. He wasn't sure what the others had planned, but there was a pair of horrid twins he had his eye on.

* * *

Hermione watched Rabastan exit her bedroom with a profound sense of relief. It was too perfect that in the moment that he was close to finally raping her as she was certain he'd been planning since at least as long as the day she moved into the manor, he was summoned. How could she get that lucky? It was only a matter of time before he _stupefied_ her or some other disgusting charm that would make it impossible for her to fight back. She hoped that his sudden summons was because of a guardian angel or a higher power.

She stared at the closed door for a long time before she forced herself to get up. A quick test of the door proved that opening it was impossible. She hadn't expected to be able to get very far with just turning the doorknob, but she had to try all possibilities. Even though she knew he could simply blast through the door and its barricade with a single _reducto_ , she spent several hours moving every single piece of furniture she could in front of the bedroom door. At least if he blasted his way in, he wouldn't be able to catch her off guard again.

Sleeping on the bed in the potential line of fire of a destructive curse wasn't a good idea. She pulled the luxurious comforter off of the bed and dragged it into the bathroom. The bathmat was large and fluffy enough that she could find a modicum of comfort. Her exhaustion from the combined effects of fear and physical exertion rearranging the room without magic meant she was asleep almost as soon as her head hit her pillow.

The bright morning sun shining through the bathroom window directly on to her face woke Hermione up. She was pleased to see that none of the furniture had been moved. Her first night with Rabastan was assault free. It was a small victory that she would take until she could figure out a way to get the hell out of that fucking manor.


	37. Chapter 37

_Author's Note: This chapter, umm, might be a little upsetting for the squeamish. You have been warned. : )_

Chapter Thirty Seven

Stalking Flora Carrow to her home turned out to be a much simpler task than Antonin expected. He'd anticipated he would have to wait hours for an opportunity to find the blasted witch and then distract her long enough to place a tracking spell on her without her knowledge. As soon as he returned to the cottage after the Resistance meeting, he Apparated directly to the woods just outside of Hogwarts. No one paid him any mind as he waited for the girl (or her twin, it didn't really matter) to make their exit from the castle. When no one was around he slipped into some heavy cover just off the path. He wanted the element of surprise to complete his task. For whatever reason, Flora Carrow had been assigned to guarding the hostages in the dungeons for most of the day. He knew it would only be a matter of time before she left the castle to head home.

He was waiting a grand total of ten minutes before the witch showed her face. The girl was surrounded by at least three other junior Death Eaters laughing as they walked through the gates. She was safely ensconced in the middle of the group, obviously the center of attention. _Were the ranks of the Death Eaters getting that desperate for female companionship after the murder of Viola Richmond and Edana Whatever-the-Fuck?_ He certainly couldn't understand the appeal of the woman who looked like an underfed vulture. No one in the Carrow family had been blessed with great beauty or brains. Perhaps it was simply as Rabastan informed him against his will. The girl had certain _skills_ that appealed to the young wizards.

At first he was concerned that she would Disapparate from the location without giving him an opportunity to cast the tracking spell. He had only a vague idea where the girl and her twin sister lived with their widower father, Artemas. The idiot elder brother of the two Carrow family members already existing beyond the Veil, Antonin remembered him from school. Artemas was a few years ahead of him and about as intelligent as a flobberworm. When Alecto was considered the brainy one of the family, there were obvious issues with the gene pool. If they weren't a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, there was no question that Artemas' father-in-law, a member of a less pure Slytherin family, would've never consented to the engagement. Antonin was frankly surprised that Artemas had been clever enough to impregnate his equally unattractive wife.

One by one the entourage surrounding the hateful twin took their leave. Briefly Antonin worried that he might lose the contents of his stomach when Flora was left alone and he witnessed one of the senior Death Eaters slip out of his own hiding place not far from him to greet the witch. Flora beamed at Avery, a Death Eater old enough to be her father and perhaps half as intelligent.

"I thought they would never leave," Avery crooned into the girl's ear.

"Were you waiting long?"

Avery chose not to respond to her question with words, but with action. Antonin wanted to curse his own eyes out of his skull when he witnessed the over-exuberant use of Avery's tongue. The sounds of his inept seduction were enough to make their unwitting witness ill. Wishing he could get the image out of his mind, Antonin pointed his wand at the girl and muttered the tracking spell. At least Avery's attempt to snog the girl like an infatuated teenager on the road to Hogsmeade provided adequate distraction.

"Will you meet me again tonight, my dear?" Avery asked, the moment their lips disengaged from the other with a sickening suction.

"I will try to get away. Is your wife getting suspicious?"

"You let me worry about my wife."

Antonin was ready to _Avada_ them both if he had to listen to their conversation much longer. He sincerely doubted that Mrs. Avery cared one bit where her husband disappeared to. His patience was wearing thin with the disgusting couple.

"I will make certain I have our usual room ready."

Their observer rolled his eyes when he was subjected to another round of inexpert fumblings. Flora smiled at the older wizard once more before Disapparating home. Avery stood in the lane looking every bit like a lovesick fifth year. It turned Antonin's stomach even more than it already was. Avery's moment of inattention was all that Antonin needed. It would make him feel better he was certain.

" _Avada kedavra_!"

A familiar green curse shot out of the end of Antonin's wand striking its unsuspecting victim directly in the chest. He rolled his eyes once more when he realized that the wizard had died with that simpering expression still plastered on his face. Antonin used a strong banishing charm to send his lifeless body far into the woods. If he was lucky, it wouldn't be discovered before wild animals found it first.

With the tracking spell firmly in place on its victim, Antonin was able to Apparate directly to the rundown Carrow family home. No one in the family seemed to be successful enough at managing the family finances to be able to afford enough upkeep on the manse. It appeared as if a strong gust of wind would knock the entire structure down. The benefit of dealing with a family not known for their astuteness was that their wards were simple to pull down. Antonin hardly had to concentrate to remove what were likely generations of enchantments. The family was never high on anyone's list of priorities and as they certainly didn't own anything worth stealing, their wards could've been demolished by a halfway decent cursebreaker with his mind focused on his lunch.

Antonin crossed the small grounds with a purpose. He wanted to get this task over and done with. There were many more after this needing the same attention. If he was unable to break into the Lestrange Manor to rescue his witch, he would wreak as much havoc on his former brethren as possible. With his wand held firmly in his right hand, he used his left to pound on the front door. Only moments later it was opened by the same witch he'd been stalking.

"What the fuck do you want?" Flora demanded.

He disarmed the inattentive witch in a single motion. Realizing that she was no longer able to defend herself, Flora Carrow began screaming at the top of her lungs to anyone who could hear. Antonin first silenced and then stunned the girl. Just as her slim body was crashing to the floor of the foyer, Artemas and Hestia came running in with their wands drawn. It should have been embarrassing for their entire bloodline how easy it was for Antonin to stun them both in quick succession. Of course Hestia was still little more than an untested child and Artemas had never had the fortitude for dueling.

Antonin cast _Homenum Revelio_ to ensure no one else could come running to their rescue. Satisfied that the three lying passed out on the floor were alone, he lazily conjured two chairs in the middle of the entrance hall. Levitating and binding the twin girls into the chairs was a simple task.

" _Rennervate. Rennervate._ "

The two horrible females came back to their senses swiftly after he removed the stunners. At least they had enough sense to show some fear for their captor. Antonin loved the feel of his victims' terror. It was indescribable and intoxicating. Flora (he could tell by the hideous necklace she was wearing around her neck in the shape of an 'F') attempted to recover some of her earlier bravado to Antonin's intense amusement.

"Always knew there was something wrong with you," she spat.

He was standing in front of her after only two steps. The feel of the back of his hand crashing into her soft cheek was one he desired to experience again almost the moment after it was over. So he did. With both of her cheeks red and tears filling her eyes, Flora refused to back down despite having no power at all.

"Jealous that I never paid you the same attention I paid all of the other old men?"

Antonin scoffed.

"I assure you that I have _never_ wanted a member of your family to touch me."

"That your plan then? Just wipe us all out?" demanded Hestia. Her eyes were clear and Antonin felt a begrudging amount of respect for the girl. "You already killed Uncle Amy and your whore killed Aunt Allie."

"Tempting," he admitted, choosing to ignore the slur against Hermione. They were already dead where they were sitting. No reason to waste his breath trying to teach them manners.

His gaze fell over to their unconscious father lying just inches away from their feet. As if they could sense his diabolical plan, both girls stared at their father with widened eyes, too terrified to say anything. Antonin had no compunction ridding the world of more Carrow scum. They were a truly worthless family. He pointed his wand at the wizard he hated from school, the cries of the doomed man's daughters ringing in his ears. Moments later after another green stream of light, Artemas Carrow was dead. Collateral damage, but none that Antonin would lose sleep over.

"What do you want from us? We'll do anything!"

Any amount of respect Antonin might have had for Flora Carrow dissipated in the moment she began bargaining for her life. The ranks of the Death Eaters had truly gone foul if these were the recruits. Begging for one's life was an insult to all of the brave witches and wizards who'd died before her showing no fear. Hestia, on the other hand, simply stared back at her captor with cold eyes.

"This is about your Mudblood, isn't it?" Hestia asked calmly. "Have you been killing us to impress her? Make her love you?"

Antonin removed one of his knives from the inside pocket he kept them stowed. Hestia's expression didn't change when the cool, cursed steel met her skin in a promise. She would've made a fine Death Eater if she hadn't been related to the imbeciles wishing to ruin his life. Flora's sobbing was distracting, but Hestia never once broke eye contact with the man. When she felt the steel against her throat she actually had the audacity to laugh. Antonin's respect for her grew.

"Go ahead, Dolohov."

Slicing through one's throat is a deceptively simple process, but one that is easy to mess up with inexperience or even lack of desire. Antonin remembered the mess he made of his first throat cutting. The cut had been too shallow and his victim took a long time to die. He learned with practice that sometimes the shallower cuts are more desirable if one really wants to watch their victim suffer in death. A deep slice across the carotid artery will kill a person in seconds. It is a much more humane method of murder.

There was no doubt how he wished to bring about Hestia Carrow's demise. He gripped the girl's hair to yank her head back. Not once did her unblinking eyes move from his. She was going to meet her death showing no distress. With her throat exposed, Antonin swiftly sliced her neck in the perfect spot to bring about her almost immediate death. Hestia's blood gushed from the open wound, coating them both. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to revel in the scent of death. It was something he feared he would never grow tired of.

The moment was ruined by the fearless woman's twin sister screaming like a banshee. Flora witnessed the death of her other half with none of her stoicism. Her tears were embarrassing. Her pleas for him to spare her were pitiful. He slapped the hysterical woman's cheeks again to his intense satisfaction.

"Please, I'll do anything," she pleaded. "Do you want me to suck your cock? You can fuck me however you want. I'll make you feel so good you forget your Mudblood!"

"You are pathetic. It's no wonder why Hermione hated you."

Antonin slowly sliced her throat with his knife, taking his time, enjoying the screams of the woman below him. Her death was messier and infinitely more satisfying than her twin sister's. She tried to struggle, but a firm hand on the back of her neck prevented too much movement. Flora Carrow sobbed every second until the moment she died.

He Apparated back to the cottage only moments after assuring himself that both Carrow sisters were indeed dead. When his feet landed in front of his door, he took a few moments to cast several cleansing spells to rid his clothes and skin of any lingering blood. With two slit throats there had been a great deal. Every time he returned home from a summons following that night he forgot to remove the blood and terrified Hermione in the Lestrange library, he made certain he was clean before crossing the threshold of their home. He didn't want to pollute their sanctuary with the remnants of his orders and he certainly never wanted to scare his witch again.

Theo and Rodolphus were standing over the 'Unredeemable' List when Antonin entered the cottage. They looked up at him, nodded and returned their gaze to the list. Antonin crossed the small space to the table. Both men moved out of his way as he picked up a discarded quill. In quick succession he crossed off 'Avery', 'Carrow' and 'Carrow'.

"You have been busy," remarked Rodolphus, his admiration evident in his tone.

"And all I've done since we left the meeting is make a sandwich," Theo muttered.

Antonin smirked at the boy. He always enjoyed his quick, cheeky wit. Ruffling the younger wizard's hair in a manner he knew Theo hated, Antonin headed towards the kitchen. In his rush to leave the Carrow ancestral home, he'd not thoroughly cleaned his knives. It was a terrible habit to get into. A man is only as good as his weapons, he was told once. As he rinsed the knife used to kill the last two members of the pureblood Carrow line, he belatedly wondered how Hermione would feel about him washing blood off in her kitchen sink.

The other two occupants of the cottage present followed him into the kitchen. He assumed they were curious about his exploits of that afternoon and he couldn't really blame them. The most their group had ever taken out at once was two on the day that Edana and Jugson died in the tea shop. Three and in such quick succession was impressive.

He had already described the manner in which Avery died, leaving out the part that still turned his stomach about him practically dry-humping Flora in the process. Just as he was finishing up describing how Flora and the rest of her family met their end, the front door opened. A very pleased Thorfinn came strutting in the kitchen moments later. It was obvious to the three men gathered that he was in an exceptionally good mood. No one wasted the opportunity to roll their eyes at his buoyant mood.

"If this is how you act every time you get a decent shag, I can't wait to move out," Theo said with a snort.

Thorfinn's face confirmed his confusion at his roommate's remark.

"How do you know about that?"

"You and the lovely Miss Rushden were not as discreet in your choice of location as I am sure you hoped," answered Rodolphus, his cheeks tinged faint pink once more that day.

"I'd really like to go the rest of my life without seeing you mid-fuck again if you don't mind," added Antonin.

The burly wizard had the decency to be shamed for at least three seconds before laughing out loud.

"Sorry about that," Thorfinn apologized though his sincerity was questionable. "Heat of the moment and all. I'm sure you can all understand."

"She is every bit as lovely as you have described her," Rodolphus said. "Though I would have preferred to not have been introduced to her in such _familiar_ manner. Perhaps next time we meet you can keep your hands to yourself."

"At least Antonin has the decency to not strut around the place every time he has an enjoyable encounter," Theo added. "Even if he is pants at silencing spells."

Antonin turned around from the sink long enough to smack Theo in the back of the head. Far from being hurt, the younger wizard laughed. It felt strange for the four of them to be laughing after such an emotionally trying day.

"Yes, well, that's not exactly why I'm in such a good mood," Thorfinn admitted. "Don't get me wrong. It certainly helped, but the real reason is because I found McLaggen."

Antonin dropped his almost clean knife in the sink before spinning around abruptly.

"Is he dead?" Antonin asked in a fair imitation of the blonde wizard's question from earlier in the day.

"Not yet. Thought you all might want to be present."

All four men were standing inside Cormac McLaggen's sparsely furnished Hogsmeade flat only minutes later. The three veteran Death Eaters were more than just mildly surprised when Theo insisted that he would join them. Before that evening he had managed to keep his hands completely clean after the murder of his father many weeks earlier. Antonin surveyed the main room of the flat. Either the arsehole was just about to move out or he was in the process of moving in. Unpacked (or packed) boxes littered the space. There were very few pieces of furniture.

In the middle of the room tied up in the only chair Antonin could see was the bruised and bloody Resistance rat. McLaggen's face was bloody. His nose was obviously broken and both eyes were swollen. Antonin and Rodolphus both gave pointed looks to Thorfinn upon seeing his capture. Rowle simply shrugged his shoulders at the attention.

"What? He wasn't cooperating."

McLaggen's mouth was gagged, but he struggled to scream at the appearance of the four formidable wizards in his home. Antonin navigated his way around several towers of boxes to approach their hostage. He pointed his wand under the man's chin and threatened to make this experience much more painful than necessary if he made a sound. McLaggen vehemently nodded his head in understanding. Antonin removed the gag from his mouth. The boy spat out blood and gasped for air. Thorfinn might have been a little too forceful in his bondage.

"Why were you ordered to kidnap Hermione?" Antonin demanded, his wand still poking into McLaggen's chin.

The idiot boy refused to answer the question. After Antonin repeated himself at least four times, Rodolphus calmly asked him to step out of the way. It was hoped that a few rounds of the Cruciatus Curse might loosen the cretin's tongue. Theo stopped Antonin from casting the silencing charms with a smirk. Young Nott coated the space heavily in effective muzzling spells. They all wanted to hear him scream. Rodolphus was exacting in his application of the torture curse. He might not be a man who thrived on violence, but when he loved, he loved deeply. Hurting their Hermione had been a poor decision. McLaggen thrashed violently against the confines of his bounds. He screamed his throat raw.

"I don't know anything!"

Rodolphus applied the curse again. He was frightening in his cool, unruffled demeanor. Gone was the lovable Saint Bernard that lived for naps and belly rubs. In its place was the notorious Death Eater who had committed countless acts of violence at his master's and his wife's request.

"I swear I don't know anything!"

Lestrange applied the curse at least five times before they decided he truthfully didn't know anything. Well, they were convinced by the second time. The last three were just for fun. Rodolphus lowered his wand and stepped back into the semi-circle of Hermione's Harem.

"I was ordered to follow her," McLaggen wheezed out. "I saw her once at the market and I scared her. Put a tracking spell on her when she wasn't looking."

Thorfinn turned to address the other members of their rebel group.

"When we get her back, we really need to teach Princess what it feels like to have a tracking spell cast on her."

McLaggen began hissing in a similar way they were all used to. He was desperate to pull his left arm out of its confines to find some relief.

"That your first summons, boy?" Rodolphus demanded. McLaggen nodded. "The longer you resist the Dark Lord, the more insistent he becomes until the pain is unbearable. He can track you through that Mark."

Thorfinn untied his left arm. Cormac cradled it to his chest.

"We'd hate for you to pass out from the pain or worse, lead the Dark Lord here," continued Rodolphus.

Thorfinn pointed his wand at the boy's arm. A non-verbal spell separated the limb from his body just above the elbow. McLaggen's screams were piercing and painful to his listeners. As blood poured out of his gaping wound, he passed out. Theo serenely approached their victim. He grasped the remains of his arm in his left hand and pointed his wand at the end of the stump. The acrid smell of burning flesh assaulted all of their noses. When McLaggen's wound was properly cauterized, Theo forced a blood replenishing potion down his throat. Theo massaged his throat to get the unconscious boy to swallow. Moments later he started to come back into consciousness though certainly not by choice. Theo saw the shocked and impressed expressions on his comrades' faces.

"I learned a few things from my father before I killed him."

McLaggen's whimpering proved that he was in an unimaginable amount of pain. Certainly Theo's composed confession to murder was unsettling as well.

"If you're doing all of this because of Granger, she's really not worth it." His voice was quiet, but clear. "Not a bad shag but messed up in the head. She sucks a pretty good cock only because you can't get her to shut up otherwise."

It was the absolute wrong thing to say. Rodolphus stepped up to punch him several times in his mouth. McLaggen was spitting out teeth with his blood when the animagus stepped back. His tears were running down his bloody cheeks, but somehow no one felt any remorse for their behavior. The idiot boy really didn't understand who he was dealing with.

"You are going to tell us everything you know," declared Antonin, using his knife to slice through the boy's shirt. When his muscular chest was completely exposed, the wizard began his questioning. "Why did you take Hermione?"

"I already told you!"

Antonin sliced into McLaggen's chest. A gash about two inches long began to drip more hot blood down his stomach. McLaggen was openly crying now. They'd already found his level of pain tolerance and far surpassed it. He knew he was a dead man, but the human need for survival prevented him from just giving in. It wouldn't take much longer, Antonin was positive.

"Why were the other hostages taken?"

"I don't know."

 _Slice_. _Scream._

"Is the Dark Lord going to kill Hermione?"

"I swear I don't know!"

 _Slice. Scream._

"Is the Dark Lord going to kill all of his hostages?"

"Probably, but I don't know!"

 _Slice. Scream._

By the tenth or eleventh question, McLaggen's entire chest was a network of weeping wounds. The pain became too much and he finally passed out again. Theo shoved another blood replenishing potion down his throat. After a rennervate, McLaggen sputtered and began to weep.

"We can continue all night," Antonin assured his hostage.

"I swear I don't know anything else! All I was supposed to do was to find Hermione and take her to Lestrange. I swear I don't know anything else."

Antonin was satisfied that he would get no more information out of the boy.

"Of all the women in the world, you touched the wrong one."

McLaggen found a last burst of strength to scream while Antonin carved a message into his chest in large, clear letters. The boy was almost insensate by the time Antonin stepped back to examine his handiwork. In large letters that covered the expanse of his broad chest was written the word 'Rat'. He thought it appropriate considering what he was tasked to do in order to become one of the Dark Lord's followers. The others approved.

Rodolphus crucio'd him one final time. He didn't hold the boy under long for fear that he would finally lose his mind. It had been a rather stressful evening for him after all. When he stepped back Thorfinn gleefully used his brute strength to his advantage. He punched the almost lifeless face until it was red, swollen and hardly resembled a human being. Theo calmly requested Antonin's knife. Surprised by the appeal, Antonin handed it over. The youngest of their group cut McLaggen's throat in a manner eerily similar to the manner in which Hestia Carrow expired earlier in the day.

The four men stood staring at the deceased body of the man who dared to touch their Hermione for several minutes until the smells began to become bothersome. A quick glance at a clock on the wall showed the time to be just after ten. It had taken them two hours to exact their revenge. Antonin hated that he didn't feel the satisfaction he normally did after a grueling torture session. Killing McLaggen didn't bring him any closer to Hermione. They wondered aloud what they were going to do next.

"We are in Hogsmeade. Can't be too hard to find more Death Eaters," suggested Rodolphus.

They opted to split up once outside the door to McLaggen's flat. Thorfinn was headed to the popular Three Broomsticks to lure unsuspecting Death Eaters to the alley. He'd had some success killing Marcus Flint in that exact manner. Rodolphus was certain he could find his own entertainment for the evening. Theo excused himself from any further activities for the night and Disapparated home. Antonin knew just the person he wanted to take out next and he knew he would be locking up the gates to Hogwarts at exactly midnight.

No one had stumbled upon Avery's body if the calm manner everyone conducted themselves going in and out of the Hogwarts gates was any indication. Antonin was certain that if another dead body was found, even if in a less grotesque condition than Crabbe and Goyle, that the area would be on high alert. His plan would not be successful if he had to deal with those who actually paid attention. One of the disadvantages of being a young Death Eater was lack of experience in being aware of all of the dangers that could be found in a seemingly innocuous area. With the vast majority of the Inner Circle dead, the newer recruits were not nearly as careful as they should have been.

Graham Montague proved this the moment he stumbled into the woods off of the path to Hogwarts to take a piss. A seasoned Death Eater would've surveyed the area thoroughly with both their eyes and a couple of spells before unzipping their pants and closing their eyes to groan in relief. He never saw the flash of green light hit him in the chest. Antonin banished his body, pants still unbuttoned, far into the woods. The scavengers of the area were going to be eating well.

Terrence Higgs and Zoe Accrington only had eyes for each other when they passed out of the gates of the castle. An obvious blossoming Death Eater and Death Eater relationship, they stopped several times in the middle of an open clearing to kiss and grope each other. Antonin wasn't sure when the outside gates became such a hotspot for lascivious behavior, but he wished he hadn't been forced to witness so much of it that day. He hit Zoe mid-snog in the back with an _Avada_.

Dispatching Higgs should've been a simple act at that point. The wizard was still fairly untested and usually relegated to menial tasks that didn't require a great deal of finesse. Antonin realized to his detriment that perhaps he had been underestimating the kid. Finding your romantic partner dead with your tongue still in her mouth had to have been disconcerting, but Higgs was alert. He scrambled out of the way of Antonin's next curse easily. In the few seconds that it took Higgs to hide himself inside a clump of thick trees, he was able to sound the alarm.

Antonin tried to Disapparate from the area with zero success. Whatever Higgs had been able to do had enacted Anti-Apparition wards. He could hear shouts coming from inside the grounds of the school. Cursing to himself, Antonin remained crouched in his hiding spot. Higgs was refusing to give away his position by hurling curses haphazardly in Antonin's direction. _Smart move, boy._

When five Death Eaters emerged from the gates to join their comrade, Antonin knew he was well and truly fucked. Two or three he might have been able to take, but six? Impossible. He considered slipping further into the darkness of the woods to hide until they were convinced the threat was over, but a buzzing in his ears told him that wasn't an option. The entire area was locked in a fairly strong containment field. He could certainly break the enchantments, but that would take time and would easily give away his position.

Higgs emerged from the safety of his cover when his fellow Death Eaters arrived. No doubt they were expecting Resistance fighters to suddenly send a barrage of curses at them. If they had been aware that they were fighting only one man who was suddenly feeling all forty-eight of his years and all two hours of sleep from the night before, they would've laughed in his face. Determined that no one was going to take him down without a fight, Antonin hurled a silent Entrail-Expelling curse in Higgs' direction. He died with a scream in his throat.

The remaining fighters began shooting everything they could into the exact spot Antonin had been in only moments before. A quick roll and a furious sprint got him to safety at the very last moment. Trees were exploding all around him. His ears were ringing. At least he could be certain that if he didn't make it out of that area alive, there were at least three wizards left who had proven they would do just about anything to get Hermione back. He was not worried that she wouldn't be taken care of in the event of his death.

From the safety of his new cover, he was able to take down another fighter with a simple _Avada_. Well, if one could ever consider the use of that curse as simple. All of the attention was turned and focused on his new area. The boulder he was hidden behind exploded in his face. Temporarily blinded by blood running into his eyes from a head wound, Antonin feared this would be the end. He started launching random curses into the general area he knew the others were still fighting from. Screams indicated that at least a couple made their mark. Wiping his eyes, he felt the point of a wand in the middle of his forehead.

He lifted his gaze to stare into the depths of Pansy Parkinson's brown eyes. She looked almost manic in her desire to end his existence. When she realized who she was pointing her wand at she began to laugh.

"Oh, I am going to be so rewarded for this. _Avada_ …"

Pansy crumpled down to the ground. Antonin was really growing rather tired of being saved at the last moment by his attacker being hit in the back with a curse. It was causing him to be sloppy and less attentive. How could he be an effective warrior if he assumed that he was always going to be saved at the last second?

Felix Travers was the last man standing. He smirked down at Antonin with the closed smile he'd adopted since the Dark Lord thought fit to rip his tongue out of his mouth months earlier. Travers had been tasked with a failed mission and upon returning with the bad news, the Dark Lord reached his bony hand into the wizard's mouth and pulled until his tongue was outside of his body. The subsequent loss of blood almost killed the man. A Dark curse to the remnants of his tongue by their master ensured that growing that part of his body back would be impossible.

"Uhh, thanks, Felix," Antonin said, feeling ill at ease by the sudden appearance of the man.

Since he was no longer able to speak, Travers waved his wand in the air. A series of words appeared in the night sky. Antonin rolled his eyes the moment he read them.

" _Yaxley sent me to keep an eye out for you._ "

"Why?"

Felix shrugged.

" _Said you might try something big and daft_."

Antonin snorted. Well, he hadn't been wrong. Travers smirked again.

" _I've been waiting for you in the castle. Heard the alarm and just knew it was you._ "

"Yeah, well, thanks again."

"What the fuck, Travers?!"

Antonin crouched back down in the brush. Travers spun around to see Sal Selwyn rushing towards him. The Keeper of the Keys couldn't contain his horror at the sight of so many dead bodies.

" _Resistance. Struck fast and left_."

Thankfully Selwyn was an imbecile or he would've realized that the containment field was still operational. No one would've been able to get out if it was still up. Antonin rolled his eyes from his hiding place.

"Fuck! I better go report this to the Dark Lord."

Just as Selwyn's back was turned, Antonin sent an _Avada_ straight for him. It was cowardly to curse an enemy in the back, but he couldn't be arsed to care at that point. Travers didn't seem to mind. Simply helped him banish all of the bodies far into the woods with the others once they'd jointly pulled down the containment. It was an ignoble manner to treat one's enemies, but at least the wolves would be happy.

" _Please try to be more careful, Antonin._ "

He shot Travers a two fingered salute that only made the wizard laugh. When the area was cleared, Travers waved and Disapparated. Antonin wished he knew where he was headed, likely off to find Yaxley. Every muscle in his body was screaming, but he wanted to find the others. Make certain they were all right.

Thorfinn was easy to find in the alley just behind the pub. He was not quite as successful as Antonin had been, but it was a weeknight just a week before Christmas. Even in the midst of a dystopian society like theirs, the bad guys still had annoying in-laws to visit for absurd family dinners.

"Hey, Antonin, I was just about to call it a night," Thorfinn said the moment he was joined in the alley.

"How'd you do?"

He pointed to three lifeless figures piled up near the rubbish bins. Not too terrible. Antonin was impressed. Without any of them coming right out and admitting so, they knew that the end was coming. They were going to have to start upping their game if they wanted to make any kind of impact.

"You seen the pup?"

"Not yet. I'm not sure where he went."

"Probably back home with Teddy now," Thorfinn suggested. With a laugh, he added. "Cold air not good for his bones."

Antonin snorted. At fifty-three Rodolphus was hardly an old man by either wizard or Muggle standards, but the three younger wizards teased him at every opportunity. He took it all in stride. Antonin thought he was secretly pleased by the attention. Rowena knew he wasn't used to positive attention from anyone else in his pre-Argos existence.

"There's an anti-Apparition ward around the village after midnight," Thorfinn explained. "We'll have to walk a bit to leave."

They walked through the empty streets in silence. Usually when the two of them were alone together they had very little to say. Once upon a time they worked well together as partners, but by the end of the war, they ceased to get along. Throw in all of the drama with Hermione and it was likely they would never be close. At least Antonin had been able to grow past the point of just outright hatred for the burly blonde. They had a begrudging respect for the other. It would have to be enough.

"So Miss Rushden seemed _nice_ ," Antonin said, surprising himself. He didn't know what possessed him to bring up Thorfinn's love life. Topics of conversation between the two men weren't usually _that_ difficult to find.

"Yeah, Lottie's great," Thorfinn agreed. "Couldn't breathe when she walked in. Bit of a shock."

"Old girlfriend?"

"Yeah. Wanted to marry that girl."

"Maybe you still can."

Thorfinn snorted.

"I'm not saying that wouldn't be great, but I don't see that happening. Lottie and I have a lot of history together, not all of it good. I imagine she'll end up with the Robert bloke who had the bollocks to protect her in that place."

"But this afternoon…" Antonin was confused. It seemed they were reconciling when he witnessed the debauchery against the tree.

"I don't know. That kind of felt like 'goodbye' to me."

They reached the end of the anti-Apparition point just then. Both men arrived at the front door of the cottage moments later ready for a long, hot shower and a warm bed.


	38. Chapter 38

_Author's Note: This chapter may be disturbing. Not as violent as last, but still, expect it to be dark. It might not be a bad idea to just anticipate that most chapters from here on out are going to be fairly dark. I'm estimating about three or four more chapters left._

Chapter Thirty Eight

Waking up on the bathroom floor had been jarring. It took several moments for Hermione to calm her rapidly beating heart long enough to remember how and why she was on the bathroom floor. The previous night was a blur, a distressing nightmare she prayed was unreal. One glance at the barricade of furniture stacked in front of the bedroom door brought it all crashing back to reality.

From the first moment she entered the family dining room for breakfast with the younger Lestrange brother on her first fully conscious day at the manor almost a full year earlier, Rabastan had not been silent about his desires. She could easily brush off the inept innuendos as merely being a somewhat amusing joke from a man that liked to tease. It made life in the manor bearable if she chose not to dwell on the stark reality that without Antonin's presence, she would've been assaulted by Rabastan months ago. Rodolphus in his Argos disguise had also been able to keep her protected in his own little ways.

Now they were both gone and she was utterly alone. Thoughts of the previous night plagued her until she feared she might dissolve into a proper panic attack. If that horribly ugly vase had not been within arm's grasp… If Rabastan had not been summoned at just that very moment…

Hermione shook her head in hopes that the physical action might jumble up her thoughts enough to keep her from dwelling on them. Naturally she was unsuccessful. The worst case scenario would be that Rabastan would decide he no longer needed her around after finally raping her like she knew he'd always wanted. What would that mean for her then? Would he kill her the moment he grew tired of her elusive charms? Cast her aside for one of the other objectionable Death Eaters to claim her for a night or two? The uncertainty could drive any sane person completely mad, and Hermione was already halfway there. What kind of existence could she expect if the best case was Rabastan never growing tired of her and continuing to use her body in perpetuity?

She angrily brushed her tears out of her eyes and off her cheeks. Weakness would get her nowhere. Hadn't her boys taught her that? All of them? Thoughts of Antonin and the other three men she knew were frantic with her disappearance buoyed her resolve ever so slightly. She knew that they were doing everything they could to bring her home. None of them would rest until she was back with them. Not even Theo and all she had really done for him was bring him pajamas and worry herself sick that he was unhappy.

Hermione called out for Rosie. She needed to see a friendly face. The elderly house-elf arrived only moments after she was called.

"Good morning, Missy Hermione."

"Good morning, Rosie. Has Rabastan returned home?"

She desperately hoped that the elf would put her mind at ease by telling her 'no'. Fate wasn't so kind. Rosie's tiny head nodding in the affirmative made her gut clench so tightly she was certain she was going to be sick.

"Master Rabby returned home very late. He is still sleeping."

"Rosie, would you come tell me the moment he is awake?"

She didn't want to be caught off guard again. If she knew he was awake, she could at least prepare herself for what might happen next.

"Rosie was told by Master Roddy to do whatever she was told."

"Thank you, Rosie."

Her squeaky ally blinked out of the room for a few short minutes. When she returned she had a clean dress and a bundle of toiletries under her bony arm. Somehow Rosie always knew just what her charges needed to feel human again. Hermione was exceedingly grateful.

She took the shortest shower of her life terrified that if she lingered too long under the water, she might have an unwelcome visitor join her. Fending a determined Rabastan Lestrange off while naked in the shower seemed like an impossibility. When she was as minimally clean as possible in less than two minutes, she hopped out to dress in record time.

Rosie led her into the bedroom to sit near the fireplace. The elf hadn't touched a single piece of furniture from Hermione's barricade so they were forced to sit on the hard floor. Rosie took Hermione's hair and began to gently brush and charm it dry. Hermione always loved when the elf fixed her hair. It was a relaxing activity that reminded Hermione so much of her mum that her eyes never failed to fill up with tears.

"Shush now," Rosie crooned in what Hermione thought of as her lullaby voice. "Rosie'll take care of Missy Hermione."

The tender moment was ruined by the attempted opening of the door. Rabastan pushed and kicked at the door hard enough to shake some of the lighter pieces of furniture. The rest wouldn't budge. Hermione rose quickly to her feet, scanning the room for anything she might be able to use as a weapon. When Rabastan's shouted curses grew louder so did the fear residing within her grow.

"Rosie!" Rabastan shouted. "Open this damned door immediately!"

Hermione could've sworn the expression that briefly crossed the elf's face was one of sympathy and remorse. It was apparent that Rosie didn't want to open the door any more than Hermione. Bound by ancient magics that forced her to obey orders she didn't like, Rosie quickly set the room to rights within moments. Every single piece of furniture flew across the room to its rightful spot. When nothing but the heavy dresser remained blocking the door, Rosie turned to Hermione and gently patted her hand in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

The dresser flew back to its rightful location and immediately the door burst open. To describe Rabastan as furious would be a gross understatement. Hermione had never seen him quite so angry. He shouted at her for daring to block him from entering _his_ room before casting powerful sticking charms on everything in the room. Without a wand to counteract the charms, she wouldn't even be able to open a drawer. Satisfied with his work, Rabastan shot an almost manic grin in Hermione's direction before vanishing the door.

"Now you won't even hear me enter, pet."

The feral smirk on his countenance made Hermione shudder in equal parts fear and disgust. Rabastan lazily flicked his wand in the direction of the bathroom to vanish that door as well. Hermione's attention was so focused on the missing bathroom door that she didn't realize Rabastan was crossing the room until he was right in front of her.

He smelled of the same kind of shaving cream that Antonin used when he could be bothered to mess with his almost perpetual five o'clock shadow. The heady mixture of lime and almond made her miss her wizard with an intensity that was almost frightening. Rabastan's breath smelled of spearmint and his expensive cologne was just the right amount to not be overpowering. It was a true shame that a handsome man like Rabastan could be so completely disgusting.

"So foolish to think you could ever keep me out."

Rabastan had her pinned against the wall unable to move away. His hands were resting on the wall, one on each side of her head. His body was pressed up against hers to keep her still. Hermione knew that men like him thrived on fear. Part of what made an encounter pleasurable for the monster was knowing that his partner, willing or otherwise, was terrified. She attempted to shore up her rapidly decreasing courage to remain as unruffled as possible.

His hands grasping her hips and forcing her body to grind against his prominent erection almost broke her resolve entirely. She kept her eyes closed, unable to bear the darkness in his. When his lips descended on hers, she didn't even try to push him away. She simply stood as perfectly still as possible trying to imagine she was anywhere else.

"Come on, Hermione. I know there's more passion in you than that."

Rabastan renewed his assault on her mouth. He ran both of his hands through her curls and gripped her head to keep her in place. His body continued to rub up against hers with promises of what it was capable. Frustrated with both her lack of fear and participation, Rabastan slapped Hermione hard across the face. Only the involuntary burning in her eyes from the hot tears she refused to shed gave any indication that she was the least bit upset by the action.

"Antonin wouldn't have kept you around for so long if you weren't a decent fuck."

He was trying to taunt her into some kind of response. She knew by the rapid deflating of the appendage he was so proud of that her plan was working. The back of his hand struck her cheek again but still she refused to show fear. He started to rant and rave like a lunatic to frighten his captive. She opened her eyes to stare back with a defiance that only angered him further.

"I _will_ make you scream, witch!"

Rabastan groaned and reached for his left arm. Hermione had no idea why he always seemed to be summoned just when she needed him to leave, but she wasn't about to question her good fortune. Lestrange stomped out of the room swearing promises that he would have her very soon.

Hermione slid down the wall to crumple into a petrified ball on the floor. Within moments of her cries threatening to never end once they began, Rosie blinked back into the room. She hurried over to Hermione to crouch down next to her. As soon as she felt tiny hands patting her hair, her sobs ripped from her lungs. Having the sympathetic touch of another was overwhelming. She had no idea how long she laid on the floor bawling while the wizened, little elf ran her hands over her curls whispering soothing, if a trifle squeaky, words of encouragement. Eventually her sobs turned to cries and her cries to whimpers and her whimpers to sighs.

"Master Roddy told Rosie that Missy Hermione is to be treated just like a member of the family. He said that he would magically adopt her into the Lestrange family if he were able."

She was incredibly touched by the revelation that Rodolphus was willing to bind her into his Pureblood, Sacred Twenty-Eight family. A brief thought of what his late wife would think of a Mudblood in her immediate family almost made her laugh out loud.

"Would that make him my dad?" she asked, struggling to stifle a laugh at the strangeness of the situation.

"Rosie doesn't know a lot about Muggle adoptions, but magical adoptions are very different. Master Roddy would be more like Missy Hermione's protector. She would have all of the protections and rights as a Lestrange family member. Missy Hermione could think of Master Roddy more as an uncle or an older brother. She wouldn't have to forget her Muggle papa."

Hermione knew nothing about magical adoptions. It was one area where she had no knowledge at all. Knowing that Rodolphus loved her enough to want to make her an official member of his family was overwhelming. Her tears began to renew themselves. Rosie did not cease her comforting.

"Rosie has been taking care of Lestrange babies all her life. Rosie takes care of Missy Hermione."

She had no idea how long she had been asleep on the floor when she finally opened her eyes. Her morning altercation with Rabastan had been grueling and her emotional breakdown with Rosie soon after exhausting. Hermione knew exactly who to thank for the pillow underneath her head and the thick blanket draped over her form. Rosie was taking Rodolphus' words to heart.

A tray with a heavy lunch was set up on a nearby table with a stasis charm. Hermione's stomach began to gurgle in anticipation of the meal. She hadn't eaten since almost a solid day earlier. She'd been too frightened to eat the dinner prepared by the elves. As soon as she started to nibble on the delicious food provided, she found she had no appetite. A pile of some of her favorite books was on top of the dresser. Hungry for something stimulating to occupy her mind, Hermione grabbed several. It didn't take her long to realize it was almost impossible to concentrate.

She curled up on the familiar sofa with the warm blanket tucked around her shivering form. The room itself wasn't cold, but every time Hermione thought about what was going to happen when Rabastan returned, another cold chill engulfed her body. Her very active imagination fantasized about all sorts of horrifying encounters in store. It was enough to push her already frayed nerves ever closer to complete insanity. She sat huddled in place for hours, her eyes focused on the flickering flames in the fireplace. She could _almost_ understand why Antonin found that action so soothing. Of course thoughts of her wizard were counterproductive in her plan to remain calm.

Silent tears ran down her cheeks as she worried about Antonin. He must have been distraught. She worried that he would do something foolish in her absence. He was a passionate man despite the cool demeanor he wore around most. She hoped he would kill the bastard who had her locked up and take her home.

She didn't know what time it was when a flustered and furious Rabastan came bursting into her room. Hours had certainly passed but as the sun was still high in the sky, there hadn't been many. The usually unruffled wizard was behaving out of character. His face was bright red as he muttered horrible curses under his breath. His robes that were usually perfectly pressed were rumpled and half-unbuttoned. He pulled on his collar forcing a button to fly off his clothing. Hermione was too frightened of this stranger to even move.

"Are you all right?"

She wanted to bite her tongue off the moment the words fell out of her mouth. Rabastan's well-being was of no concern to her, but she was unable to stop the verbal spewing when it began. Rabastan turned to glare at her, almost as if he were just noticing her presence. His expression was one of suspicion.

"Like you care."

His petulance was as surprising as his disheveled garb. Hermione was able to catch a glimpse of the spoiled little brat he must have been as a child. The thought was almost amusing.

"I once thought we were friends," she lied, hoping at the last moment that manipulating the man into having a conversation would keep his hands off of her body.

Rabastan sighed.

"Fine. I believe the Dark Lord is displeased with me and I don't know why. Twice he has summoned me places that make no sense. I fear he is testing me."

Without warning, Rabastan lay on the couch and put his head in Hermione's lap. She didn't know what to do. His frustrated sighs grew louder as it became obvious he was waiting for her to continue to comfort him. She ran her fingers through his hair much like Rosie had done for her earlier. Rabastan instantly sighed and melted into the affection. Hermione closed her eyes in an effort to pretend that the man in her lap was Antonin. Thorfinn would do in a pinch.

"The Dark Lord has put me in charge of a very important project," Rabastan explained. "That _should_ mean that he trusts me, but I don't know. He's not exactly easy to read."

"What happened when you were summoned?"

She wanted to keep him talking no matter that she did not care for a word he had to say. Keeping his mind occupied on anything other than his previous promises of his designs for her seemed to be her only option of defense. Rabastan sighed again before answering.

"I Apparated into an empty field this morning," he explained. "Never been there before and didn't have the first clue where I was. No one else was there. I wandered around for a while before I gave up and went to Hogwarts. The Dark Lord refused to see me. Something about a number of bodies found partially eaten in the woods."

Hermione continued running her hands through thinning brown hair. He had not been blessed with the thick head of hair his older brother had been. The affectionate gesture only kept him talking. She hoped he would reveal more the longer she played with his hair.

"The rebels attacked last night. I should have been informed but I was summoned into London last night. Right in the midst of a crowded Muggle area. It was a close thing that none of the filthy beasts witnessed my sudden arrival."

"What happened in London?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

His frustration was growing. Rabastan wrapped his right arm around Hermione's waist and his left around her knees. Hermione struggled with not showing fear as he began to squeeze her in what was almost an affectionate manner. He turned so his face was against his stomach. Every muscle in her body tense the moment he began to sniff her. It was unnerving.

"Are you certain you are a Mudblood?"

The question was asked in a quiet, disbelieving tone. His blue eyes stared up into her brown waiting for her response.

"Both of my parents are Muggles, if that's what you are asking."

"You smell too good to be an animal."

He twisted around in place until he was able to grab her head with both hands. At first she struggled against his motion to pull her head down to his until she remembered that was exactly what he wanted. His lips met her with enough force that she was certain she'd nicked her bottom lip on one of his teeth. Rabastan didn't seem to mind. He invaded her mouth with his tongue completely ignoring the faint coppery taste of blood. Her head was kept in the same awkward position until without any warning, Rabastan roughly pushed her head away from his.

"Fuck!"

His sudden shout frightened his unwilling guest. He stood up from the sofa and swiftly exited the room. Hermione could hear him cursing and shouting through the entire house. She watched him cross the grounds to the gates with great relief. When he Disapparated she promptly threw up all over the floor.

"Oh, no, Missy Hermione!"

Rosie rushed over to Hermione's side and began to drag her to the bed. Where the little elf came from was beyond Hermione. She had a habit of popping up when she was least expected. Once Rosie was successful in forcing her newest charge to lie back on the decadently luxurious bed, she conjured a cool cloth to place on Hermione's forehead. Hermione could've cried at the creature's kindness if she wasn't already cried out from earlier.

"Missy Hermione has very good friends," the elf said, smoothing her curls away from her flushed face.

The declaration surprised Hermione. Yes, she certainly believed she had good friends but had no understanding why Rosie mentioned the fact.

"Rosie shouldn't tell, but Master Roddy said that Rosie was to treat Missy Hermione as a member of the family and elves cannot lie to their families."

Hermione started to speak, but the elderly elf shushed her at once.

"Master Roddy ordered Rosie to keep an eye on Missy Hermione. Of course that was a ridiculous order because Rosie was going to do that anyway."

Rosie's eyes widened in fear when she realized what she'd said. Hermione hated to know what kind of punishment the creature had in mind for calling her master's orders 'ridiculous' and she wasn't going to find out.

"Rosie, I order you not to punish yourself. You were right. Rodolphus' orders were ridiculous. You are a good elf."

Satisfied with her new order, Rosie nodded her head, all traces of fear gone from her determined face.

"Rosie was ordered to find the sweet, pretty witch every time Master Rabby is alone with Missy Hermione."

"The sweet, pretty witch?"

"Yes, with the yellow hair. She and her pretty wizard will have pretty babies one day. Rosie would like to hold one. Rosie loves pretty babies."

Hermione had a suspicion she was talking about Reina and Lucius, though she couldn't understand why Rodolphus would give Rosie such a bizarre order.

"Why do you have to find Reina, Rosie?"

"Rosie's not sure, but the pretty witch does some kind of spell to keep Missy Hermione safe."

 _The summonses._ It made sense. Every time Rabastan had been alone with her for any length of time, he was summoned. The thought that Reina had figured out a way to create a summons was fascinating. For at least the hundredth time in her acquaintance with Reina Rowle, Hermione believed the older girl could've been one of the best students at Hogwarts if she'd only applied herself. Her inquisitive nature made her want to view the woman's N.E.W.T scores. Thorfinn would laugh and call her a nosy, little swot. He wouldn't be wrong.

"Missy Hermione needs to stay in bed and rest," Rosie ordered.

Hermione didn't want to argue. Even with the nap on the floor of the bedroom she was still exhausted. Fear had a way of zapping energy out of even the strongest of people. She fell asleep content with the knowledge that when Rabastan returned to the manor, Rosie would let her know.

When Rabastan returned to the manor just before the sun was ready to set, Hermione didn't need a wakeup call from the elves. She was able to hear the front door slam and Rabastan's curses with her own ears. She could tell by the way his shouts were getting louder that he was headed in her direction. Not wanting him to walk in on her still lounging in bed, Hermione jumped to her feet. She was standing when the current master of the house came barging in. His anger was crackling around him in sparks of magical bursts.

"Do you know what today is, pet?"

His tone was biting and cruel. Hermione shook her head, subconsciously taking a step back when he stepped toward her.

"Today is the Winter Solstice. We have plans to celebrate."

Rabastan removed a simple red robe from his pockets.

"Take your clothes off and put this on."

He threw the garment at her, narrowly missing her face. Hermione grasped the robe but did not move. He couldn't expect her to just change in front of him, could he? She could see the fury in his eyes. Whatever he'd been doing while he was gone from the manor was obviously unpleasant. She had never seen him that angry.

"Did you not hear what I said, witch?!"

Hermione forced herself to take a deep breath to prevent herself from crying. Making a conscious effort to not show fear was not an easy task. The more frustrated the formidable Death Eater grew with her, the harder it became to remain unaffected.

" _Imperio_."

With one simple word Hermione felt all of her fears dissolve. An uplifting sense of calm lightened her spirits. Gone was the worry of what was about to happen to her. She no longer had any fears or worries to speak of at all. It was freeing. For the first time in a very long time, years even, she felt completely at peace.

" _Take all of your clothes off."_

Hermione had never considered herself particularly shy, but she did have a firm sense of modesty. Living with four other girls in a dormitory for six years and then two boys in a tent for another year meant that she had to get over her aversion to dressing and undressing in front of others fairly quickly. She felt no shame disrobing completely in front of Thorfinn that night they were drugged and forced into their passionate encounter. Her months with Antonin prevented her from ever feeling shame when her naked body was on display for his own eyes.

She had zero hesitation stripping down in front of Rabastan. When the last strip of clothing hit the floor and she was completely exposed for her newest captor, Hermione was unashamed. Even as he began to slowly circle her form, examining every inch of bare flesh. He moved closer to her but she felt no fear. Even as his unfamiliar hands began to roam over her nakedness she wasn't afraid.

 _"Kiss me."_

Her mouth pressed up against his within seconds. Unlike every other time the horrible wizard forced his kisses on her, Hermione wasn't disgusted. She gladly opened her mouth to allow Rabastan to deepen the kiss. One hand was in her curls, roughly pulling her head towards his. The other was splayed across her bare bum kneading and pinching the flesh.

The unnatural couple must have been snogging like oversexed teenagers in a hidden alcove for several minutes before the once soft touches from the wizard became harsh, punishing caresses. He was leaving red marks behind that would soon turn to deep bruises. In the back of her mind Hermione thought how strange it was that an activity she usually enjoyed could be so unpleasant. Antonin had never injured her when they were alone. Yes, there were times his grip on her hips in the heat of passion was hard enough to leave marks, but she never really minded. He _never_ hurt her when they were just kissing.

Thoughts of Antonin made her wonder why she was kissing the wrong man. Every touch felt foreign. In the middle of a particularly fervent kiss, Hermione stopped. It took Rabastan a moment to register that he no longer had a participant. He broke the embrace.

 _"Kiss me again."_

She felt her mouth move closer, but she was able to stop before they met. Rabastan's frustration was quickly returning after his command was repeated several times to no avail. Hermione continued to fight the movement after every shouted order. In the back of her mind she remembered how Harry was able to fight the Imperius Curse. She owed it to her best friend to try.

 _"Get on your knees."_

One of her knees bent of its own accord while the other stayed straight. She didn't want to get on her knees in front of Rabastan. All possibilities were unpleasant. The continued awkwardness of one bent knee and one straight forced Hermione to fall to her face. Rabastan was disgusted. He threw the red robe at her and removed the curse.

Realizing she was sprawled out on the bedroom completely naked, Hermione pulled the robe over her head in seconds. Rabastan's face was bright red. He was cursing her very existence under his breath. Hermione could tell he was in pain when he grasped his left arm. Instead of running out of the house to meet his master's summons, legitimate or not, Rabastan used the same tethering charm on her that Antonin used to use when they left the manor.

Rabastan grasped her elbow to drag her out of the room. His swift wand movement removed all traces of the spells keeping her confined to her old room. She was forced to follow him down the massive main staircase and across the sumptuous entrance hall. In the corner of the front room she saw Rosie wringing her hands with a worried expression on her tiny face. Rabastan paid her no mind. He dragged his hostage barefoot across the frozen grounds to the main gates. Another wave of his wand brought down the wards enough to let her through the gates. Rabastan wrapped his free arm around Hermione's waist and Disapparated them away.

When the shock of the squeezing wore off, Hermione was able to discover her new whereabouts were in the middle of large city. London, most likely. Her suspicions were confirmed when Rabastan pushed her through a plain door right into the middle of the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. She gasped when she surveyed the immense room. Every single spare inch was filled with what appeared to be every member of the British wizarding society. Thousands of men, women and children of all ages were crammed into the space that had not been designed to hold so many even with the temporary expanding charms that were obvious around every wall.

She could hardly breathe for the crush of people. The fear that hung heavy in the air was suffocating. With so many people Hermione was surprised to find everyone was silent. Save for the occasional cry from a frightened baby and the harsh shushes from their equally terrified parents, no one was saying a word. All eyes appeared to be focused on the raised platform that had been erected in front of the 'Magic is Might' statue that dominated the Atrium. Nothing was on the stage that towered high above the crowd, but there was a sickening expectation of what was to come.

Rabastan drug her way from the crowd before she could start asking her inevitable questions. Their appearance caused only a few silent, raised eyebrows from those on the edge of the crowd. She was pulled down a long, empty corridor past what she knew were likely ornate offices for the Minister and his personal staff. At the end of the corridor he opened a door to a simple office. The door was slammed shut moments after she stepped inside.

"All of those unnecessary summonses prevented me from enjoying your company in the way I desired."

Rabastan pushed Hermione up against the large desk dominating the middle of the room. He spun her around until she was facing the desk, her back pushed against his chest. When he forced her to bend over the desk, Hermione tried to swallow the terror that was climbing up her throat. His intentions were painfully clear. Any doubt she might have had disappeared in the instant her hands were magically glued to the top of the desk. Rabastan's hands were like ice when he slipped them underneath her robe. She was determined that she would not show any fear. The end of her robes was pushed up to her waist, completely exposing the lower half of her body to the chill of the room and the gaze of the disgusting man. The shock of Rabastan touching the most private part of her body made Hermione jerk and vainly try to pull away. When his hand was taken away to begin unbuttoning his trousers, she couldn't stop the tears that began rolling down her cheeks.

"Dry as the Sahara," he laughed. Rabastan stopped in the middle of undoing his trousers to lean over her body and whisper in her ear. "Don't tell me you haven't been wanting this since the moment you stepped into my house."

Hermione was afraid she was going to disappoint herself by screaming. The door to the office opened abruptly. Rabastan cursed. He moved away from Hermione, exposing her vulnerability to whoever entered the small room. She was more afraid and mortified than she had ever been in her entire life. What if Rabastan wasn't the only one? Reina was raped by three different men. Maybe it was destined to be her fate as well.

"What?" Rabastan demanded, his vexation evident in his tone.

"Thought you'd like to know the hostages have arrived. Everyone is in place. We are just waiting for the girl."

Hermione recognized Yaxley solely by his voice. She'd spent several evenings in his company at the manor. He was always polite if a bit cool. It gave her hope that maybe he wasn't the kind of man to take advantage of a girl bound across a desk.

"Can you not wait just a few more minutes?"

"Certainly," Yaxley replied. Hermione could hear him start to leave the office, but stop before he was out. "Are you sure you want to touch that?"

Rabastan was incensed. He attempted to sputter out a coherent response. Nothing came out of his mouth correctly until he demanded Yaxley explain what he meant.

"Even if you put aside fucking a Mudblood is just as bad as fucking a dog or a sheep or any other disgusting animal, do you really want one that's already been used by Potter and probably _all_ of the Weasleys? You know how vermin have no morals. Not to mention Rowle and the traitor Dolohov? There's no telling how many others. I'd fear my cock would rot off."

Hermione could have kissed Yaxley. The moment he closed the door behind him Rabastan let out a strangled groan and began buttoning his trousers. His spell keeping Hermione bound to the desk was removed so abruptly that she fell to the floor. Her lip hit the edge of the desk on the way down, splitting it. She lay on the floor petrified, yet relieved, of what might happen next. There were still so many unknowns about her situation.

The moment he was fully clothed and readjusted, Rabastan gripped Hermione's elbow. He yanked her roughly from the ground. They exited the office and went through another door to the silent, crowded Atrium at the base of the staircase leading up to the new platform.

Rabastan pushed her towards the stairs. She lost her balance, hitting her face on the way down. Tears were falling freely after the sharp pain. Her tormentor wrenched her back to her feet and began to pull her up the stairs.

"Fucking bitch," he muttered under his breath.

Gone was the slightly perverted, but welcoming host of her early captivity. Despite all of her concerns of his unwelcome amorous advances when she was alone in the manor, there were times she'd actually enjoyed the man's company. He had a humor about him that was almost endearing. Under different circumstances they might have even been friends. This man pulling her up the stairs in view of thousands of spectators was a frightening stranger.

When they reached the top of the platform, Hermione gasped. A row of masked Death Eaters stood behind the Resistance hostages. Hermione recognized every single person standing in front of their own personal guard. Rabastan brought her to the very center. Dropping her arm and pushing her to the floor, Rabastan turned to address the expectant crowd.

"I am pleased to see that the Dark Lord's orders that all citizens attend this gathering this evening were mostly followed. Any British witch or wizard not in attendance will be found and brought here to answer for their absence."

Hermione stared out at the crowd at the announcement that those not present would be found, many began to shift on their feet and whisper to their neighbors. It seemed that whatever the purpose of the evening, and Hermione was beginning to form a sick theory of what that was, there were likely many who ignored the orders. She naively hoped that the consequences would not be too severe.

"Despite the Dark Lord's Great and Victorious ascension to power a year and half ago, we continue to be plagued by those among us who refuse to recognize his superior authority. This will no longer be suffered!"

His voice rang through the Ministry to a chilling effect.

"Behind me we have several who have dared to rebel against the new order. They, and all others like them, must be eradicated. We will no longer allow them to roam freely amongst our people. The Dark Lord wants our entire society to witness what happens to those who would dare to rebel.

"As a special treat, Potter's Mudblood whore will do the honors. Can you imagine a more ignominious death than at the hands of a traitorous Mudblood?"

The weight of Rabastan's words struck Hermione like a kick in the stomach. Suddenly the plans Voldemort claimed he had for her made sense. She turned her head to examine the Resistance hostages she now understood she was expected to execute. She almost lost everything in her stomach when her eyes landed on Neville's precious baby. He couldn't have been more than three or four months old. How could she murder an innocent child?

She scanned the faces of the rest of her intended victims. Hannah was holding on to her child silently crying and periodically kissing the top of his head. Draco sneered, no doubt his programmed look to hide his own fear. Angelina stared ahead with a blank expression. Ryan gave her a tiny, private smile that was almost her undoing. A very pregnant Fleur was pale and quietly weeping.

 _"Imperio!"_

She forgot all of her anxiety the second the Unforgivable was cast on her once again that day. Suddenly all concern she had for the poor souls only feet away was gone. The same soothing voice she remembered from earlier ordered her to stand to her feet. She complied without thought. Another order had her feet moving towards a small table where a collection of sharp knives lay. If she hadn't been feeling so recklessly carefree she might have been afraid.

 _"Pick up the biggest knife."_

Her hand grasped a silver knife with a sickening twelve inch blade automatically. While she stood waiting for the next command from the comforting voice, the masked Death Eater behind Fleur Weasley dragged his hostage across the stage. The part-Veela was dumped at Hermione's feet, forcing the openly weeping woman to her knees.

 _"Grab the witch's hair."_

Hermione gripped the woman's blonde hair in her free hand. Fleur gasped.

 _"Tilt her head back to expose her throat."_

She did.

 _"Slit the bitch's throat."_

Hermione placed the large knife against Fleur's perfect throat. Her soon-to-be victim shuddered with heart wrenching sobs. A tiny bead of deep red blood appeared from a tiny nick. Hermione was transfixed by the richness of the color.

 _"Slit her throat now!"_

Memories of the woman kneeling before her flashed through Hermione's mind. They had never been close friends though there seemed to be a somewhat mutual respect between them. Fleur was not an easy person to be around.

 _"Slit the fucking cunt's throat now!"_

When Hermione was recovering in Shell Cottage from her evening with Bellatrix Lestrange, Fleur had been wonderfully kind. She'd even held Hermione in her arms as she cried. Their eyes were locked on each other. Hermione continued to fight the urge to murder the woman on her knees.

 _"Fucking slit her fucking throat now, you daft cow!"_

Hermione swiftly moved the knife away from Fleur's throat. All feelings of peace and serenity were instantly gone. She plunged the knife into Rabastan's gut. His blood coated her hand. A madness took over. As she stabbed Rabastan repeatedly she finally understood what Thorfinn meant by being intoxicated by blood. She had no idea how many times the knife plunged in and out of his body before Rabastan Lestrange's lifeless body fell with a thud, his blue eyes still open.

All Hell broke loose around her.

* * *

 _Author's Note: I'm sorry for the cliffhanger. Forgive me? : )_


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter Thirty Nine

The two returning members of the smallest rebel group expected to Apparate from the outskirts of Hogsmeade straight to the front garden of the small cottage that seemed to be growing smaller every day. Antonin had been reluctant to add certain members, mostly Thorfinn, to his wards. Numerous pleas from his witch to 'play nicely' finally broke through his stubborn resolve. Instead of arriving in the same location they always did, Antonin and Thorfinn were more than a little surprised to find themselves standing at least a hundred yards from the cottage on the sandy beach. A heavy mist of cold saltwater dampened their heavy cloaks in seconds.

Antonin was exhausted. He was simply not in the mood to deal with faulty wards at that time of night. The day would likely go on record as one of the longest days of his life. Right up there with his first full day in Azkaban a thousand years earlier. Or so it seemed. Frustrated that he was going to be forced to walk the remaining distance to his warm bed, Antonin made only a single step before one of Thorfinn's giant hands on his chest stopped his movements. Thorfinn silently gestured towards the cottage with a nod of his head.

The heavy cloud cover promising a freezing downpour at some point in the next few hours almost entirely concealed a massive floating Dark Mark in the sky. Antonin had seen this same sight incalculable times in his past. He had lost count the number of raids he'd cast the _Morsmordre_ spell himself. Never had he viewed the symbol of all he had done wrong in his life with such a sinking, sickening sense of dread. Was this how everyone else in their world viewed his master's snake and skull mark? With abject terror and a swirling sensation in their gut threatening to turn their bowels to liquid?

Thorfinn's frightened expression must have perfectly mirrored Antonin's own countenance. One, if not two, of their number was inside that cottage. Theo was definitely headed home when they left McLaggen's lifeless body bleeding on his floor. The events of the evening had been difficult for the sensitive boy. Antonin was proud of his determination, but could not blame him for rushing back to their refuge as soon as possible. Neither of them was sure where Rodolphus was. He might have called it a night and returned home already.

If he squinted, Antonin could see a few hooded figures surrounding the cottage fence. Not many. Less than a dozen surely. Antonin had to bite down a shred of offense that the Dark Lord thought so lowly of him to send so few. Even without Thorfinn as backup he was confident in his abilities to take out more than those sorry excuses for new recruits all by himself. He wasn't universally feared for nothing.

"Why are they here?" Thorfinn asked in a whisper. "Do you think someone knows what we've been doing?"

"Maybe. Doesn't matter. We've got to get inside."

Once their eyes adjusted to the darkness they had a better view of the masked intruders. It was heartening to realize that none of the would-be attackers were able to breach the wards surrounding the garden fence. There was still hope that if Theo and Rodolphus were inside the cottage they were most likely still safe.

Their moment of relief was interrupted by a distinctive 'pop' only feet from their position on the beach. Both men spun around at the exact moment with their wands drawn on the new arrival. Rodolphus stood perfectly still with his empty hands open until they relaxed enough to lower their weapons. He turned to face the cottage with wide eyes.

"What the fuck?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out, Pup," answered Thorfinn.

The three wizards huddled together to plan their next course of action. Each one was worried about the wizard trapped inside. Despite his obvious desire to distance himself from the group, Theo had been unanimously accepted into their tight-knit group. One of them wondered out loud if they should contact the Resistance for some backup, but almost as soon as the suggestion was made they all agreed it was a terrible idea.

"Let's keep those wankers away from us if you don't mind," Thorfinn begged.

They needed a plan. Thorfinn was all about just rushing towards the Death Eaters with curses flying. He wasn't afraid of the spells they might encounter in the open area on the way to the cottage. Rodolphus and Antonin shared a smirk at his boisterous inexperience. It was too easy to forget that Thorfinn was all of twenty seven years old until his own naiveté shone. The elder veterans were more interested in a sneak attack.

The options were considered in depth before any final decisions were made. Their attention fell on the masked imbeciles stalking around their home. One tried to rush through the open gate. Antonin's wards threw him backwards about twenty feet to land hard on his arse. They all chuckled.

"I thought we only used the Mark if someone was dead," Thorfinn asked, worry about Theo still evident in his voice.

"That's its purpose," answered Rodolphus. "But these new recruits don't know any better. Probably just wanted an excuse to utter the spell."

Rodolphus placed a comforting hand on Thorfinn's shoulder. They were all worried about their youngest member. A plan of attack quickly began to take shape. Each wizard picked out which of the Death Eaters they were going to focus on. Disillusionment spells were going to be utilized. They weren't certain they had enough time to throw up an invisibility shield.

Their impromptu war council was interrupted by an odd shuffling sound coming from the path leading to the cottage. None of them were certain what it could be. Rodolphus utilized his enhanced hearing from his animagus form. The tilt of his head was so similar to the expression Argos made when he was given a command he didn't like that Antonin had to choke down a chuckle.

Dirt was shifting up ahead of them. The ground was shaking slightly. A trail of unstable soil was headed directly to a spot about twenty feet from where they were gathered. Rodolphus took off running towards the movement. Thorfinn and Antonin followed close behind with their wands outstretched ready for battle. About ten feet from the shaking ground, Rodolphus held out an arm to stop their forward movement just as an explosion of dirt shot straight into the air. The younger wizards wanted to attack immediately but once again Rodolphus stopped them.

Muttered curses could be heard coming from down in the hole. Rodolphus reached a hand down in the ground and pulled up an angry, filthy Theo by his collar. The boy was mumbling all manner of offensive words under his breath that did nothing but make the others smirk. Once his entire body was free of the hole, Theo removed the bubblehead charm he'd cast on himself. In an excellent impression of Rodolphus when he returned from the beach in his Argos form, Theo shook his body violently to dislodge the pounds of dirt clinging to his clothes.

"Good. You're all here," Theo declared, his eyes rolling.

"Teddy, mate, what the hell?" Thorfinn asked, his attempt at keeping his laughter contained failing miserably.

Theo began a brief explanation of just how his evening had continued after he returned home from Hogsmeade. He'd taken a long shower to cleanse his body after McLaggen's death. Once he was dressed and ready for bed he heard a strange noise outside. Thinking it was just one of them returning to the cottage, he stuck his head out of the attic window. He counted eleven Death Eaters circling the garden before one almost hit him with a stunner. They'd arrived about an hour earlier just after midnight.

"The Dark Lord didn't send his crack troops," he said. "They're all a bunch of idiots."

"I think we've killed most of his better followers," suggested Antonin.

"Fair point. Once they realized they couldn't just enter the gates one of them put up the anti-Apparition ward. Also set up a barrier to prevent anyone from leaving," Theo continued. "I assumed the dumbarses didn't think about making sure the barrier went underground. Turns out I was right."

It was an amateurish mistake made by many who didn't understand or appreciate the subtleties of wards. Antonin was impressed that the young wizard had the presence of mind to tunnel his way under the Death Eaters and their inadequate enchantments. Theo rotated around to flash a sheepish grin to his host.

"Uhh, sorry, but there's a massive hole in your cellar floor."

Antonin clapped the boy on the shoulder to show him he didn't care. Theo's life was worth more than a little bit of damage to his home that could be repaired later. He wasn't sure when it happened exactly but Nott meant a great deal to Antonin.

"So what's the plan?" Theo asked, an eagerness present in his voice for the first time any of the other men could remember. "We are going to kill them, aren't we?"

"That's all we have planned so far," Rodolphus answered.

"We were working out the details when you interrupted us with your mole impersonation," added Thorfinn.

"I just spent the last half an hour blasting a tunnel. Would've suffocated more than once without the bubblehead charm. I have dirt in parts of my body I don't even want to think about. I want them all dead."

Antonin laughed and squeezed his shoulder.

"If I'd known that's all it would've taken to encourage you to join in all of our fun, I would've shoved your face in the dirt weeks ago," Antonin declared with a mock seriousness.

Theo simply rolled his eyes while the others laughed. They took a moment to enjoy the humor before settling back to the seriousness of the situation. In the end they more or less went with Thorfinn's plan to basically just run up to them and blast the hell out of their ranks. Each of them picked out their targets: Theo had two and the others each had three.

Young Nott hadn't been wrong. Each and every one of them was grossly incompetent in the mission they were given. Antonin felt confident in his earlier assertion that even on his own he could've dispatched most of the green Death Eaters before making an impressive escape. Few people in the world actually scared him and one was a witch whose head hardly reached his elbows.

Nine fell in a swift skirmish. Only one managed to hit their mark. Thorfinn was hit with a slicing hex just above his eye. A gash of about three inches poured blood and would certainly leave a scar, but he was able to make his opponent regret his actions. The last two removed the anti-Apparition ward and managed to get away. All four men cursed the mistake.

"Looks like the dead Death Eaters are miraculously alive," Thorfinn spat. "Don't think they'll miss reporting that to the Dark Lord."

It was not wise to remain much longer. They allowed five minutes to rush into the cottage to retrieve what they thought they might need. Much to Antonin's disgust and dismay, their next destination was Malfoy Manor. They really didn't have any other options available to them.

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, Antonin, but your owl is dead," Theo informed him when their five minutes were almost gone. "I tried to get a message to Reina to have her send you three patronus warnings, but they hit him."

Antonin shrugged his shoulders. He really hadn't had enough time to fully bond with his owl.

"Hermione hated the poor sod. Probably for the best."

They all Apparated to the gates of Malfoy Manor. One step through the gates set off multiple alarms. Lucius and Reina were used to Resistance members dropping by the estate at all hours, but just about all of them were capable of sending a message to them through their patronus beforehand. The four men felt awkward standing exposed at the gates. Pushing across the estate without an escort could be potentially dangerous.

Only a few minutes passed before Lucius appeared ready to duel in his dressing gown. With his wand pointed in their direction they all tensed at his sudden arrival. They must have been an interesting sight to behold. Lucius raised a single eyebrow as his eyes moved from wizard to wizard, lingering on Theo's dirt covered form and Thorfinn's bloody face.

"Don't even ask," Theo said when the blonde wizard surveyed him longer than any other.

"I assume that your unexpected arrival at almost two in the morning is due to circumstances beyond your control," drawled Lucius.

Antonin wanted to curse their host. He hated being beholden to the wizard for anything. Before he could open his mouth to shout at the infuriating man, Rodolphus calmly explained the situation they had only just found themselves in. Lucius lowered his wand, beckoning the men to follow him through the trees to the cloaked caretaker's cottage.

"We, of course, have plenty of available room in the cottage," Lucius said to break the silence of their walk. "Reina would never forgive me if I denied any of you a place to stay. You are all welcome to remain as long as necessary."

"You may come to regret your invitation," Rodolphus replied.

Reina was standing in the front door waiting impatiently for her wizard to return. The moment her eyes fell on the group she rushed towards the men. Thorfinn's wound was still bleeding fairly heavily. She didn't waste a second to start fussing over her older brother. He appeared to be annoyed, but not nearly as annoyed as Antonin was for being forced to rely on their hospitality. He was already missing his bed.

"We apologize for waking you both up so late," stated Rodolphus. "I'm sorry if we frightened you, my dear."

Miss Rowle turned her attention away from examining her brother's wound long enough to flash Rodolphus a warm smile. Thorfinn was disinclined to accept his sister's assistance. He kept trying to push her away with assurances that he was all right. Reina had years of experience dealing with her older brother and was not about to give in. Lucius picked up a piece of parchment from a side table before catching his witch's eye. They had one of those wordless conversations that most couples in love are capable.

"Theo, the shower is free upstairs if you want to get cleaned up," Reina suggested. "Finnie, let's go in the kitchen. I've got a potion to stop the bleeding on your head. No, don't argue with me!"

When both Theo and Thorfinn were out of the room, Lucius handed the parchment he'd picked up to Antonin.

"A member of the Resistance brought this over earlier. Reina and I have been discussing what it could possibly mean."

Rodolphus read the parchment over Antonin's shoulder. It was a simple order that all citizens of Wizarding Britain, regardless of age, were required to be at the Ministry of Magic offices the next day before five pm. Attendance was mandatory. Anyone found to not be present would be arrested and charged with revolutionary acts. The parchment was a portkey that would take the holder and their household directly to the Ministry atrium when the spell was activated.

"This must be what Yaxley has been talking about. Do we know any more?" Antonin asked.

"Miss Bell met with the Minister earlier today following our meeting. Pius is resolutely on our side now. Yaxley even went so far as to remove the Imperius Curse he placed on him. The young ladies have all met with their former sponsors. Details are scarce, but we know that the Dark Lord has ordered some kind of scaffolding built in the Ministry Atrium," Lucius explained.

"Scaffolding? Like for a public execution?" Rodolphus inquired.

Antonin dropped the parchment. He whirled around abruptly and rushed for the front door. Once outside he immediately threw up on the grass. Hermione's voice rang through his head. Words she'd spoken months earlier on the first night she was conscious in their bedroom suddenly had more weight.

 _"You're just keeping me here until you can turn me over to_ him _. Does he have an old fashioned public execution planned? Am I to be a warning to all of the other Mudbloods?!"_

A firm hand grasped his shoulder. He remained bent over until the lightness in his head subsided.

"We will not fail our girl," Rodolphus promised.

Antonin stood up completely to face the man.

"She's been afraid this was going to happen from the very beginning. He's going to execute all of the hostages and make everyone watch. What better way to ensure no one else has the courage to rebel?"

"Perhaps she isn't a part of what's happening."

"No, I know she is. I can feel it, but at least we know where she will be tomorrow."

Thorfinn joined them outside. His wound was healed, his face clean.

"My sister has some beds ready. Probably not a bad idea to get some sleep before we run off to storm the Ministry tomorrow."

No one could argue with the sensibility in his plan.

"Antonin, you ever think about attaching Princess to you with a permanent sticking charm? I think that's your best option to keep her out of trouble."

* * *

Antonin woke up the next morning to the sound of the doors opening and shutting repeatedly downstairs. When he opened his eyes it took him a few moments to get his bearings. The previous night came rushing back to him all at once. So much had happened in twenty four hours that he was half-convinced he had been dreaming. The previous morning he woke up alone because his witch was sleeping in the cellar. If he'd only known that that was going to be the last night they had together, he would've been more willing to resolve their disagreement.

He didn't want to think that that had been their last night together. It was a depressing thought. There was still a chance that they would be able to save her that night from whatever nightmare was planned for the Ministry of Magic. Rodolphus tried to assure him that they didn't know for certain that the mysterious scaffolding had anything to do with a public execution involving his Hermione, but he knew in his gut that this was what the Dark Lord had planned all along. Maybe his witch was a Seer. He snorted to himself imagining what Hermione would think about him claiming she was an expert in Divination. She would probably hex him.

Rodolphus was no longer in the room. They'd been stuck in a room with two uncomfortable twin beds that even a cushioning charm didn't improve. He had grown spoiled with his bed. Once he escaped from Azkaban he made the decision to only sleep in disgustingly comfortable beds whenever possible. The end of the war could not come soon enough for him. There were two possibilities: one, they would win and he could take his witch home without fear or two, he'd be dead and then it didn't matter where he slept.

The slamming of the doors grew too maddening to remain in bed any longer. Getting any more sleep was an impossibility. Antonin rose from the lumpy bed to dress. Reina was an efficient hostess. She'd left out a fresh toothbrush and his clothes from the previous night freshly laundered. He hoped the night before when he was using the guest shower that she'd used a summoning charm to retrieve his soiled clothing instead of walking into the room for them. Though the more he thought of the possibility that the young woman might have caught a peek at him while he was naked, the less he cared. He had nothing to be ashamed of and quite a lot to be proud of. If the poor girl was settling herself for a lifetime with Lucius, she should take every opportunity she could to decide if _his_ body alone was worth staring at until they died.

The downstairs was crowded with Resistance members, explaining the mystery of the damned door constantly opening. He recognized many faces from the train wreck of a meeting the day before. Others he knew from being on the wrong end of their wands. Very, very few of them were the least bit friendly to the former member of Voldemort's Inner Circle. Most glared at him as he passed on his way to the kitchen.

Only members of _his_ rebel group were inside to his delight. Reina turned around from her place at the stove to smile and wish him a good morning. He could've sworn her eyes dropped to below his waist for just a moment before her cheeks flushed a light pink and she spun back around with an embarrassed grin. Antonin smirked, held his head up a little higher as he crossed to the kitchen table.

"We thought it best to hide in here," Theo announced when he'd joined the others at the table.

Thorfinn was hovering over his sister picking at the food she was making. She frequently hit him with the spatula she was using to turn the eggs. Rodolphus and Theo were content to sip their tea a safe distance away from the bickering siblings.

"Not a bad idea," Antonin agreed. "Not a friendly bunch out there."

Antonin was only halfway through his first cup of tea when they were all startled by the sudden arrival of Rosie. Everyone stood up at once. Reina pushed the spatula into her brother's hand with a direct order to mind the eggs. Antonin was impressed by how calm and levelheaded she was acting, especially considering he was almost certain his heart was about to beat out of his chest.

Reina performed the complex spell without hesitation. Lucius rushed into the room in the midst of it to place a supportive arm around her waist. Antonin didn't have the opportunity to see the spell cast in its entirety when it was practiced on him the day before. He could understand why the Hufflepuff boy was so unnerved by her performance. There was very little about the spell that _wasn't_ Dark. Even the atmosphere in the kitchen shifted as Reina continued to chant in what Antonin learned was an extinct form of Old Norse. Where she learned that language was anyone's guess. He assumed that her education into the Dark Arts was courtesy of the wizard providing her additional support. Lucius had always been an eager student and an even more effective tutor.

When Reina was finished she almost slumped to the ground. Antonin understood why Lucius been so quick to rush to her side. He conjured a cool cloth to wipe her sweaty brow and led her to the table. Rosie bounced from foot to foot during the entire exchange. Rodolphus recognized the anxiety his elf was experiencing. He placed his hands on her tiny shoulders.

"You did a wonderful job, Rosie," he praised.

The elf beamed at the attention. Antonin was certain that was the first time he'd ever seen a house-elf blush. He wasn't even sure they were capable before that moment.

"Rosie, you are to treat Hermione just as if she was a member of the family," Rodolphus ordered in a gentle tone. "If I were able to, I would make it official with a magical adoption."

The elf's eyes weren't the only ones to open wide at Rodolphus' announcement. Everyone present knew the significance of his words. Antonin knew that it was certainly not something to take lightly. Rodolphus proclaiming his intentions in front of the group was the first step in the process that would bind Hermione to his family and give her access to their property, their vaults, and perhaps most importantly, their alliances and protections. Rosie nodded her head before Disapparating back to the manor to renew her watch on her newest family member.

Before anyone could respond to the bombshell of adoption news, Neville Longbottom entered the kitchen with a purpose. He started to speak to Lucius, but his attention landed on Rodolphus. Longbottom narrowed his eyes at the man who was partially responsible for his parents' insanity. Rodolphus' eyes dropped immediately to the floor. After witnessing the exchange, Thorfinn abandoned his post at the stove to loom over the Undesirable. Longbottom matched Thorfinn's steely gaze with one of his own.

"Get out of here before I hit you like I should've yesterday," Thorfinn warned.

Longbottom started to say something in response until Thorfinn used his broad chest to herd the young wizard out of the room. Lucius excused himself to find out what he wanted. In the same moment, Rodolphus rushed out the back door to the outside. They witnessed him transform into a dog through the window and begin a thorough sniff of the garden. Antonin, Theo and Reina all focused their attention on Thorfinn with matching expressions. Thorfinn didn't appreciate their looks.

"What? I didn't like the way he was looking at the mutt. Fuck, I burned the eggs!"

Thorfinn hurried back to the stove to deal with the aftermath of his brief inattention. Everyone else quietly chuckled.

"Is that why you immediately started picking on Longbottom yesterday?" asked Theo.

Thorfinn sighed, his cheeks turning red.

"First off, I really hate that arsehole. Me and him will _never_ be mates. Second, Pup gets sick every time they're in the same room together. I just thought it'd be easier if I distracted him and gave him a target that would actually fight back."

"All these years I've been telling everyone that my big brother was just a sweet, giant softie. No one ever believed me."

Reina crossed the kitchen to her brother's side, her energy restored. She leaned up to kiss his cheek. Thorfinn tried to push her away, but to everyone's amusement she was determined.

"Geroff me! I am _not_ sweet."

Their laughter was cut short by the sudden appearance of Kingsley Shacklebolt. Antonin forced himself to take a deep, calming breath before he hexed the man. To his disappointment, Shacklebolt requested a moment alone to speak with him specifically. Antonin led him out the same door Rodolphus exited. A few warming charms made the chilly morning almost as warm as the kitchen. Rodolphus ceased his rolling in the grass to sit next to Antonin's feet. Shacklebolt narrowed his eyes at the beast, but didn't let Hermione's dog deter him.

"I spoke with Yaxley this morning. He advised me that You Know Who is out for your blood, Dolohov. Something about you murdering several Death Eaters outside the gates of the school."

Antonin was both surprised and confused by this news. He didn't understand how the Dark Lord could know about that if he killed all witnesses. Only Travers was left alive, but he was as guilty as Antonin.

"One of the new recruits, Turnip or Turpin, something like that. She was just inside the gates. Witnessed everything including one of our men on the inside, Travers, help you out. Apparently she was fucking Selwyn."

"I don't see how that part was necessary to tell me."

Antonin didn't want to hear about anyone's sex life, least of all Sal's. He knew the girl Shacklebolt was referring to. Hermione's age and a fellow Ravenclaw which made her obvious lack in judgment regarding romantic partners all the more disturbing.

"She wasn't supposed to be there," Shacklebolt continued. "But when she saw Selwyn killed she ran inside and went straight to your precious Dark Lord. You have a well-known face. She identified you immediately. He has called for your capture and Travers' capture."

"That _would_ explain all of the incompetents outside my cottage last night and why we were forced to come here."

"Travers hasn't been found. Yaxley is actually hiding him in his own house. He has a special task planned for him tonight."

"Do _you_ know what's happening tonight?"

Shacklebolt exhaled. Antonin noticed the strain the other wizard was under for the first time. It had been easy to discount the man's own anxiety and pain, but in that moment it was all too clear that they were both desperately missing their lovers. He liked Ryan Sloane. Definitely thought the man could do a hell of a lot better. The heart wants what it wants, however. Antonin reminded himself that they were essentially on the same side.

"I don't think I know any more than you do," Shacklebolt admitted. "Yaxley has a vague idea but even he won't know the details until later. Maybe not even until the actual moment. The plans are being kept well under wraps."

Shacklebolt excused himself to return to the inside. Planning was required and they were sorely limited on time. The moment the backdoor clicked shut Rodolphus transformed. He was staring at the space vacated by the former auror with a sour expression.

"He's lying to you," Rodolphus declared.

"I got that impression too."

"I could sense subtle changes in his heartrate," he explained. "He knows more than he's willing to tell you about tonight. We shouldn't trust him."

"Not a problem. I never did."

Even with warming charms, December was making itself known. Both men escaped the chill into the heat of the cozy kitchen. They were surprised to find Charlotte Rushden seated at the table alone with Theo. Thorfinn was still standing by the stove engaged in a hushed discussion with his sister. His eyes betrayed him, however, with their frequent looks toward the witch.

"I'm sorry that we didn't have an opportunity to talk more yesterday," Miss Rushden said to Young Nott.

All of the men present struggled to not laugh at her words. Antonin and Rodolphus resumed their seats at the table, hiding their smirks behind their freshened teacups. He wondered if the witch would be mortified to know her amorous activities of the afternoon before were witnessed by at least three strangers or if she was the type to just shrug her shoulders and say 'whoops'.

"Ophelia is in Russia with Mum and Dad," Charlotte continued. "They've been staying with our host family."

"Host family?" Theo asked, confused.

"Percy Weasley was able to find all of us from the Umbridge Home a trusted family to stay with in Russia. They wanted me to stay with another family because I wasn't pregnant, but I told them to go fuck themselves. I was staying with my little sister whether they liked it or not."

Antonin witnessed the proud smirk on Thorfinn's face at her outburst. The girl obviously had spirit.

"So she _is_ pregnant?" asked Theo, his voice quiet.

Charlotte reached across the table to take his hand in hers.

"Yes, she has about two months left to go. The healer said it's a little girl."

"Excuse me."

Theo ripped his hand back and rose from the table. He was out the back door moments later. Charlotte made to stand up to follow, but Thorfinn placed both of his hands on her shoulders to keep her seated.

"Teddy just needs a few minutes by himself to curse and scream and probably cry. He's been clinging to a faint hope that she wasn't pregnant all this time."

"Oh."

Lucius entered the room moments later to announce they had a plan for that evening's raid on the Ministry. Everyone quickly rose to meet the others in the front room for the details.

* * *

She stared down at the blood dripping off her hand completely transfixed by the bright red hue. The sharp metallic scent of the dead man's blood assaulted her sensitive nose. Other smells she couldn't identify slowly began to overpower her senses. Sounds became louder. Someone was screaming.

Hermione lifted her head to see the panicked expression on Fleur's flawless features. The masked Death Eater standing behind the hostage pushed something in her hands. All Hermione could see was something glowing bright blue before Fleur disappeared into thin air. A scan of the execution platform showed each masked Death Eater pushing similar items into their hostages' hands. In quick succession Ryan, Draco and Angelina disappeared.

Hannah was screaming at the man towering over her. Both of her hands were full of Baby Frank. Hermione could hear the masked wizard pleading with her to open her hand. He finally had to wrap his own arm around the terrified mother and disappear with them.

Everything was happening so fast. One of the Death Eaters grabbed Hermione. She attempted to wiggle out of his grasp, but he was too strong. He threw her body over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing at all. The other masked figures moved out of his way to allow him first crack at the stairs. Suddenly afraid of the great height, Hermione ceased her attempts to kick the man.

From her limited view she was able to see sheer panic on the floor of the Atrium. Many were running towards the exits, but every door was blocked by more masked Death Eaters. It was a frightening scene. Families huddled together with shields help up around them while curses and spells flew across the space. Some tried to escape towards the Ministry offices, but again, those exits were blocked. People were falling left and right. At least she hadn't seen any tell-tale green bursts of light striking any of the victims.

Her captor kicked open the door to the corridor she'd only just exited a short time earlier with Rabastan. The corridor was eerily silent compared to the Atrium. Realizing she was alone with a masked Death Eater she did not recognize, Hermione began to panic again. She pounded her fists on the man's back. Kicked him in the face at least once. Not once did he make a sound. Simply readjusted her on his shoulder and continued on.

Their destination was the lavish office belonging to the Minister for Magic. He knocked on the door four times before it was yanked open by someone Hermione couldn't see. Once inside with the door shut again, the Death Eater set his hostage down on her feet. Hermione considered charging the man. Sensing her plan, he raised his wand to remind her that she was completely unarmed.

"What do you want with me?" she demanded.

He lowered his head and pulled the mask off. It had been months since she'd last seen him, but she instantly recognized Felix Travers. His silence in the corridor made sense. She'd heard about his brutal punishment and couldn't help feeling sympathy for the man. They had had more than a few fairly pleasant conversations while she was stuck in the Lestrange Manor. Even had the opportunity to apologize once for dragging him into the mess of the break-in at Gringotts. She'd even meant it partially.

 _"Antonin said that you are to remain here until one of your boys comes to fetch you."_

"Antonin is here?!"

 _"Yes. He also said that if you even_ _think_ _about leaving this office, he will find you and lock you in the cellar at home until one of you is dead."_

She collapsed to her knees in relief. Antonin and her boys were coming for her. They were going to find her and maybe this nightmare would finally be over. Large, racking sobs bubbled out of her throat. Her hands covered her face as she sobbed in relief.

"It's all going to be all right, Hermione."

The sound of the feminine voice she knew in another life startled her out of her breakdown. In the first moments of realization that she might actually be safe, she'd forgotten that there had been someone else in the room. She spun around swiftly, prepared to scratch and bite if necessary. All she managed to do was knock a heavily pregnant Katie Bell flat on her arse.

"Katie?!"

Travers was behind Katie in a second helping her back up. Hermione followed them both to the sumptuous sofa in front of the Minister's private Floo. The former Gryffindor Chaser shooed them both away.

"I'm pregnant, not crippled. Loss of balance isn't uncommon at this stage. Thank Godric I don't have that much longer to go."

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, still completely blown away that she was sitting with an old school mate.

"Same thing Felix is doing," Katie answered. "Making sure you don't do something foolish and rush back out into the madness out there. I wanted to do my part. There's not a lot I can do especially not in my condition and with an overprotective fiancé convinced I'm going to run the first chance I get."

It wasn't difficult to discern the touch of bitterness in Katie's tone.

"Your fiancé?"

Katie gestured to the room they were seated in.

"We're in his office right now."

"You are _engaged_ to Pius Thicknesse? Since when?"

"Don't you _dare_ you use that tone with me, Hermione Granger," Katie warned.

"What tone?"

She truly didn't understand what the older girl was upset about.

"The Oh-You-Poor-Thing-Let-Me-Save-You tone. I am not some bloody house-elf you think needs to be given a poorly-knit hat and its freedom. Pius is a sweet man who loves me and wants to claim his child. Do you have any idea how hard it is for a child in the wizarding world who doesn't have a father?"

"I'm sorry, Katie. I was just surprised."

"Yes, well, my grandmother always told me to marry a man who loved me more than I loved him. Said that he would be less likely to break my heart. As an Umbridge girl with an Umbridge baby, I'm not likely to have many options in the future."

Hermione couldn't help that she felt sorry for the girl. She had been placed in a difficult position by the horrible bitch that died in her cellar. All of their lives had been irrevocably changed by the war. If Katie thought that she could find the tiniest bit of happiness with the man who used to essentially rape her when she was a prisoner, well, it really wasn't any of her business. Maybe they were more like Luna and Draco than she was aware of. Certainly there would've been an extraordinary amount of pressure for the Minister to show his support for his Senior Undersecretary's project. He might have even been like Thorfinn's Charlotte's sponsor. It wasn't her place to judge.

"What's going on out there?" Hermione asked in an effort to change the uncomfortable subject.

"The Resistance is taking over the Ministry," Katie explained. "Any of the Death Eaters who are not actually working with the Resistance are being captured. We are supposed to stay in here until it's all over. Felix is our guard. He's not as effective a dueler because of his lack of tongue, but he's more than capable of keeping us protected."

Knowing what was going on just outside of the door but being unable to assist in any way was maddening. Hermione tried to occupy her mind with washing her hands in the Minister's private washroom. Rabastan's blood was stubborn. As she watched the redness swirl down the drain, she tried not to dwell on what she had just done. The man deserved his death certainly. She just wished she didn't have to be the one responsible.

Time passed slowly while they waited. Every second she feared that none of her boys would come for her, that they were all lying dead on the marble floor just outside the doors. She began pacing the room to the annoyance of Travers and Katie. They were isolated inside the office, but sounds still penetrated their refuge. Shouts and what sounded suspiciously like explosions were common. It seemed an eternity before there was a distinctive knocking on the outside of the door.

"The door is spelled so I'm the only one able to open it," Katie said as she dashed towards the entrance. Well, as much as anyone could _dash_ eight months pregnant.

A disheveled Rodolphus entered the room. His robes were torn and there was a nasty cut on his cheek, but Hermione didn't care. She closed the distance between them in seconds. His arms enveloped her shaking frame to hold her against his chest. Her sobs from earlier returned in full force. Rodolphus held her even tighter.

"I'm so sorry!" she cried. "I _ki-killed_ your brother."

"Shh, it's all right, my girl. You did what you had to do. Someone was bound to kill Rabby at some point. He was not a good man."

She struggled to catch her breath after his assurances that she was justified in murdering his younger brother. A minute or two passed before she began to worry about her other boys.

"Where is everyone else? Are they all right? Where is Antonin?"

"Everyone is all right," he promised. "Theo broke his arm, but the healers are setting it right now. Thorfinn and Antonin are downstairs in Level Eleven helping to lock up the Death Eaters we caught."

Katie held the door open peering down the corridor. The loud sounds from earlier were gone. A quick glance at the mantle clock showed the time to be just after seven. It had taken the Resistance less than an hour to take over the Ministry. Hermione thought she might burst with all of the questions that she had.

"Is it all over?" she asked Rodolphus, scared to know the answer.

Rodolphus sighed.

"No, not yet. It won't be over until the Dark Lord is dead. Until the castle is in our hands and he is dead, we still have some fighting left to do."

"Am I going to be locked up for that too or will I be allowed to actually do some fighting?"

"If it were up to me, I'd keep you locked up in our cottage for the rest of your life, _daragaya_."

The voice she longed to hear above all others startled the witch. She spun around to see Antonin standing just inside the doorway. He was dressed in the black robes of a Death Eater. Scorch marks riddled his outer robes. Fresh blood was trickling down his hairline from a minor head wound. His cheeks were covered in sweat and what might've been soot. She'd never seen a more beautiful man.

She was in his arms in seconds. Her lips found his without hesitation. Ignoring everyone else in the room, Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. They kissed as if it were the first, the last and the only kiss they would ever share. Only Antonin's presence of mind kept them from escalating their affections to a point that would make the others in the room blush. He was the one to break the kiss. Staring at her with his intense dark brown eyes made her entire body erupt into delicious goosebumps. They held a promise of what was to come when they were alone again.

"Take me home, please?"

* * *

 _Author's Note: Thank you all for your patience. I really intended to get this chapter out sooner but someone's Thorfinn got sick and he's a big ole baby. : ) This week has been stressful, but this story has been constantly on my mind. To the point, actually, that I've had multiple dreams about living in a cottage with four very handsome men. The worst part of the dreams? Waking up._

 _We still have some action left in our story. Still estimating about three, maybe four chapters. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story for so long! We're almost at the end._


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter Forty

Disappointment was not a strong enough word to describe what Hermione felt the moment she heard the bad news that the cottage was no longer safe. Antonin hated that he wasn't able to gradually bring that topic up. Instead he was forced to stare down into the darkened eyes of the woman he loved and tell her there was no possible way they could go home at any point in the near future. She had been crushed.

Finding out that they were headed for Lucius' caretaker's cottage on his estate hadn't helped. Though it was spacious and available, Rodolphus and Antonin agreed that heading to the Lestrange manor would be a terrible idea as well. Even if they chose to discount the fact that Hermione had spent a harrowing day and a half there in captivity, it was a known home to the Dark Lord and what was left of his loyal followers. It was likely that one of the incompetent Death Eaters from the night before recognized Rodolphus. If they had, the Dark Lord would likely send forces to the Lestrange ancestral home to search for his missing follower.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione said, though she wasn't fooling anyone. "I just want to get out of this fucking place. Can you take me somewhere I can take a hot shower and sleep in a bed without fear of rape?"

Antonin's entire body tensed at her offhanded remark. If Rabastan wasn't already dead, he would've used the opportunity to make McLaggen's death look like child's play. He wanted to know what she experienced alone with Rabastan even if part of him was petrified to know the truth. Would they always be like this? Would they spend the rest of their lives with Hermione constantly in danger that he would fail to protect her from? It seemed likely. He didn't want to remember all of the dangerous situations she had been in since she was officially under his protection. In almost eleven months, she had been attacked more than he was comfortable admitting to himself. He was only half-joking when he said he wished he could keep her locked in their cottage for the rest of their lives.

"You were very brave tonight, _daragaya_."

"No, I wasn't. I was scared out of my bloody skull," she retorted. "I could've easily killed those hostages. If he hadn't already put me under the Imperius Curse earlier today, I'm not sure that I could've shaken it off."

Antonin could feel his blood pressure rising yet again in his stressful life. If a Healer checked his vitals in that moment they'd likely want to admit him for high risk of stroke. He had known Rabastan for most of his life. More than once he had been a witness to what that wizard enjoyed doing to his victims. How many had he seen succumb to his advances simply because they were under an illegal compulsion spell to do so? He had no idea. Too fucking many. To know that he was unable to keep Hermione from that fate was galling.

"What happened to you when you where there?" he demanded.

"Not nearly as much as Rabastan wanted, I can assure you."

He _hated_ how flippant she was being. Was she sincerely that unconcerned about what could've happened to her or was she trying to spare him? Either way he didn't appreciate it. Rodolphus was staring at her with an expression on his worried face that did nothing to help. He'd known Rabastan even longer. He obviously didn't care for the manner in which she was speaking either.

"Mostly he just kissed me and groped me," she finally admitted when she grew uncomfortable under the stares from both men. "He tried more the first night, but I hit him in the head with that ghastly vase you hated so much. He was angry and said he would put me under the Imperius Curse. I was able to shake it off. It's no big deal."

He wanted to physically shake some sense into her tiny, little body. _No big deal?!_ There was a _reason_ why the curse was an Unforgivable. There was a _reason_ why the wrong side had been able to control the Minister for Magic for almost two years. There was a _reason_ why Charles Yaxley was unable to prevent himself from torturing and murdering his eldest daughter while under the curse. Very few people were able to just _'shake it off'_. She obviously didn't understand the strength of will that action took. He once had the misfortune to be placed under it by the Dark Lord in his youth. It was an experience he did not like to remember.

"He tried to rape me again when he brought me here, but you know, I think Yaxley actually saved me, if you can believe that."

Of course he could. Despite glaring evidence to the contrary, Antonin knew that Yaxley was an honorable man. With young daughters and a young wife he absolutely adored, he had no problem believing that the wizard would do what he could to prevent a brutal sexual assault. Certainly Antonin had never seen the man rape anyone even in their worst attacks and raids in the past.

Antonin pulled his witch closer to his chest. Thinking about every horrible thing that could've happened to her after her kidnapping was making him lightheaded. He needed to feel the weight of his woman up against his own body. Hermione didn't seem to mind. She, too, seemed to crave even closer contact than what was socially acceptable in the middle of the Minister for Magic's office with an audience.

"Can we leave yet?" she asked, a hint of pleading present in her otherwise steady tone.

"Not yet, _daragaya_. There's still some fighting going on in pockets around the Ministry. We need to wait for the others to get here to give us an update."

"I was serious earlier," she continued. "About fighting. If you think for one second that you can just lock me up in a magically sealed room again for my protection, you can just think again. I _will not_ just sit around waiting to find out if the ones I love are alive or dead."

This was not an argument he wanted to have especially not in mixed company. Rodolphus didn't count. He was fairly certain that despite his obvious weaknesses when it came to Hermione, the animagus was almost always going to be resolutely on _his_ side when it came to issues of her safety. Felix and the Bell girl were standing at the edge of the office pretending to not be eavesdropping, but he was no fool. This argument could wait for the privacy of their own bedroom.

"We will discuss this later," he assured her.

Any argument that she might have had was cut off by the arrival of the other two members of their merry band of fools. Thorfinn had sustained no injuries in the melee at the Ministry which was quite surprising. Usually the burly idiot was too ardent in his violent enthusiasm in the heat of battle. Theo's arm was immobilized by a sling. He'd taken a fairly violent hex directly to his elbow. The healers were able to save the arm, but he would be required to keep it perfectly still for at least two full days.

Hermione rushed towards Theo. With his broken arm carefully considered, she threw her arms around the tall, lanky boy. He always was visibly uncomfortable with any publicly demonstrative act of affection. No doubt life in the Nott home was cold after the death of Lucya. Their little Gryffindor didn't care. She fawned over him, asking him multiple questions about how he felt and if he needed her to do anything for him.

"I got hit too," muttered a petulant Thorfinn. "You just can't see it because it's in a less visible place."

She rolled her eyes at his declaration. After giving one last kiss to a blushing Theo, Hermione turned towards the blonde. He scooped her up in his arms and dragged her to his broad chest. While her feet were dangling off of the ground several inches, Thorfinn whispered into her ear in the most tender tone Antonin had ever heard come out of the boy's mouth.

"I have been so bloody worried about you, Princess," he mumbled. His words were meant for her ears alone, but Antonin was standing closely enough that it was impossible to not overhear.

Rodolphus cleared his throat, a signal for the man to put the witch back down. Thorfinn squeezed Hermione tighter before doing so. Once back on her feet, she reached a hand up to trace over the new scar above his left eye. Her concern was evident.

"Nothing to worry about, Princess. Witches like scars."

A wink sent her into quiet chuckles. Antonin didn't care for the way they were looking at each other. Like a possessive tyrant, he reached for Hermione's arm to pull her back into the safety of _his_ arms. She didn't argue though her attention rested on Thorfinn's features for longer than Antonin was comfortable with.

Charlotte Rushden chose that exact moment to enter the office. She was dressed for battle. Antonin had had the privilege of watching her duel during the thickest part of the fighting. She had been remarkable. Only a few scratches and mild hex marks were present on her skin proving herself to be an adept fighter. Antonin gestured towards the woman with his head hoping that Thorfinn would turn his undivided attention away from _his_ witch.

"Katie darling, are you all right?" Charlotte asked, throwing her arms around the pregnant woman.

"Of course I'm all right. I was stuck here the entire time," Katie spat, her annoyance apparent. "Hermione knocked me on my arse at one point, but I can't really blame her for it. I did startle her after all."

Miss Rushden sent a tense smile in Hermione's direction. When her eyes met Thorfinn's, she coughed and immediately turned away. Antonin could feel Hermione tense at the exchange. She was forever possessive and protective of those she deemed 'hers'. It was obvious she didn't care for the way that the young woman looked at Rowle.

"Who is that?" she asked Antonin discreetly.

"Charlotte Rushden," Thorfinn answered just as quietly.

Hermione's eyes widened at the answer. She focused her attention back on the woman speaking in hushed whispers to the Bell girl. After a swift survey of the women, she spun around to address Thorfinn.

"Is that…"

"Not here," he said, effectively cutting off the remainder of her sentence.

Antonin couldn't bear the thought that his witch was having a private communication with the wizard. There was more than just friendship between the two of them. There always had been. It made the jealous rage within prickle and expand. If he were able, he would whisk his witch away somewhere private where they would never cross paths with Thorfinn Rowle ever again. Maybe then he might cease his desire and wish to murder the man.

Kingsley Shacklebolt and Pius Thicknesse made their grand entrance soon after. Both looked a little worse for wear. Antonin was astonished that Thicknesse would deign to get involved with the petty fighting. He was never one who liked to get his hands dirty even when he was the Head of the DMLE. The wizard rushed to the pregnant woman to embrace her. Katie Bell smiled up at Pius, but the moment she locked eyes with Hermione, she glared. There was more to that situation than Antonin was aware of. Hermione chose to ignore the glares and addressed Shacklebolt.

"Is it all over, Kingsley?" she asked. "Are we free to leave?"

The cold tone she used to address the former auror was surprising. She'd once spoken so highly of the man. Once considered him a friend. Whatever had passed between them in the time since must have been terribly unpleasant. He had only been able to get bits and pieces of details from Thorfinn and Rodolphus. Hermione resolutely refused to speak about the man.

"All areas of the Ministry are secure," Shacklebolt answered. "It is now safe to leave if you must."

She stared up into Antonin's face looking for some kind of signal that they could leave. He nodded once and grasped her hand in his. They made their way to the door to the corridor, the others in their group following closely behind. Antonin forgot that Hermione wasn't there for the bulk of the battle. Travers' instructions were to whisk her away as soon as physically possible. There had been a plan in place to capture Rabastan, but her quick work with the knife made that plan unnecessary. He had never been more proud of his witch than when he was standing on the floor of the Atrium watching her thrust that knife in and out of Lestrange's body.

Only steps into the corridor Hermione gasped. There were bodies up and down the lengthy hallway in various stages of unconsciousness and death. Most wore the familiar black Death Eater robes though there were some unfortunate civilians mixed in as well. A fire was still raging at the end of the corridor where there had been a fierce duel between the Resistance and those few Death Eaters who were actually still loyal to the Dark Lord.

The Atrium was worse. She gripped his hand with a fierceness sure to leave a few red marks at least. Healers were running back and forth across the massive marble floors to check on patients too weak to rise from the spots where they fell. Hermione spun her head around multiple times in an attempt to view every possible angle. Antonin knew she was looking for familiar faces.

"'Mione!"

A small witch with fiery red hair threw her body into Hermione's waiting arms. Antonin tensed for a moment until he realized she was simply little Ginny Weasley. Both girls clung to each other crying. He had no doubt that the last time they'd seen each other was the day that Harry Potter was killed. When they finally broke apart, both girls began wiping their cheeks.

"Are you leaving?" Ginny asked.

"Yes, we're going now. I just want to get somewhere I can get some sleep."

"George has plenty of room at his house. We can easily find you a bed there."

"Thank you, Ginny, but I'm leaving with Antonin."

The Weasley girl narrowed her eyes in his direction. He suddenly forgot all thoughts he'd previously had about admiring the redhead.

"You don't have to spend another moment with the likes of him ever again, 'Mione. We will keep you safe."

All four men flanking Hermione stood taller, ready to defend their girl if necessary. Ginny Weasley wasn't impressed. She openly scoffed at their actions.

"Your family will take care of you, 'Mione."

"We are perfectly capable of keeping her safe, Weasley," Theo said, his cool tone not revealing how angry he was quickly becoming.

"Stay out of it, Nott. This doesn't concern you." Weasley turned away to address Hermione directly once more. "I know that this hasn't been easy for you, 'Mione, but you can come with _us_ now. Whatever promises they've made you, just forget them. We are your family. Not these _Death Eaters_."

Hermione released her hold on Antonin's hand. For the briefest of moments he felt completely bereft, fearing that his witch was about to walk away from him forever. When Hermione stepped closer to the redheaded witch and her hair began to spark, he took a deep breath.

"Like I said, thank you for the offer, Ginny, but I am perfectly safe with these gentlemen. They would never hurt me."

Weasley muttered a spell under her breath. A shock of light flew out of the end of her wand to rip the bodice of Hermione's robes. Before Hermione was able to cover her chest back up with her hands and the ripped pieces of fabric, most of the hideous scar he was responsible for giving her years earlier was exposed to everyone. It always made his stomach clench to think that it was his fault that her flawless skin was no longer flawless. Not to mention it was a daily reminder of how close he was once to killing her.

"They would never hurt you? Looks like they already have," Ginny spat.

Antonin moved to stand between his witch and the harridan, but Hermione stopped him. She was never one to back down so easily from a fight.

"You have no idea what you are talking about, Ginny. You never do."

"So all of the rumors are true then? You really are Dolohov's _whore_."

Hermione's hand made contact with the younger girl's cheek with a satisfying slap. Weasley reached up to touch the reddened spot on her face. Her brown eyes were wide and disbelieving.

"Fine, Granger. Go run off with your little band of Death Eaters. Go spread your legs for all of them, but don't you _ever_ ask a member of my family for anything ever again. You are dead to us."

Weasley scampered off before any of the fuming wizards staring her down could hex her into oblivion. Hermione didn't seem bothered by the girl's outburst, but Antonin knew her better than that. She was the kind of person to internalize all of the negativity sent her way. Most likely she would end up alone in the loo at some point in the next several hours to sob silently about the horrid girl's unfeeling words.

"Antonin, please, get me out of here," she whispered.

They ignored every single person who called out her name or one of theirs. The battle was over. There was nothing else they could do except ensure that they were able to get their girl somewhere safe. Antonin refused to relinquish control of her hand long after they Apparated to the gates of Malfoy Manor. She clung to him until the moment they were upstairs in the caretaker's cottage with the door shut.

"Everyone is always going to hate me."

He almost missed the words she spoke as she sat down on the edge of the bed he'd spent a restless night in the day before. Hermione stared down at the floor, releasing her hold on the ripped dress. In that moment she seemed so broken. Antonin was honestly surprised she was willing to be so vulnerable in front of him.

"No one hates you," he replied.

"You heard Ginny. She's always had the ability to not give a bloody hell what anyone thinks and speak her mind. She always says what everyone else is just thinking."

"Weasley is a vicious, little cunt. You are well shut of her."

It was the wrong thing to say. He knew it the moment the words tumbled off of his tongue. Hermione covered her face with her hands and ran off to the bathroom sobbing. She slammed the door causing most of the upstairs to shake.

" _Lyubimaya_ , please open the door," he begged.

"Go away!"

He could've blasted through the flimsy door in a second with a single spell. Hell, he could've kicked his foot through the panels without even causing himself any physical pain. The racking sobs he could hear coming from his witch just inside made him want to do all of that and more, but he stopped himself. She needed some time to process what had happened. She would not thank him for interrupting her solitude. Likely he would only make things worse.

"Let me, Antonin."

He didn't even know Reina Rowle was inside the cottage. She'd run off to the Ministry with everyone else hours earlier. With the exception of a moment or two in the heat of the battle, he hadn't seen her since. Reina gently knocked on the door.

"Hermione, it's Reina. May I come in?"

Her answer was the unclicking of the lock on the door. Reina gave Antonin a small smile before disappearing into the confines of the small room. He pushed his ear against the door, but he could hear nothing. Silencing spells prevented him from learning just what the two witches were discussing. He paced the small corridor waiting for either of them to exit. An eternity passed before Reina slipped back out. All spells were removed from the room if the sound of a running shower within was any indication.

"I gave her a calming draught and she's taking a hot shower," Reina explained. "She's had a traumatic night."

"I'm aware of that." He didn't mean to sound so harsh and immediately regretted his words yet again that evening.

"Yes, of course." She didn't seem to be bothered by his tone of voice. "I can't stand Ginny Weasley. Never could. Thankfully she was a couple of years behind me in school. My interactions with her were limited. _I_ can't stand her, but to Hermione she is family. Or at least she was. She represents a part of her life that is over. The Weasleys are always going to be a sensitive subject to her that we need to be aware of."

"I didn't think before I spoke."

Reina smiled.

"You are not the only one with that problem, I'm afraid. Give her time, Antonin."

She patted his forearm with her hand before heading downstairs. Antonin stood staring at the closed bathroom door for a few moments longer. When he turned around to go back into the room he was sharing with Hermione, he saw Thorfinn standing in the doorway of the other guest room. He was glowering and his cheeks were red.

"What?" Antonin demanded. He wasn't in the mood to deal with more anger and upset feelings. He just wanted to climb in bed, wrap his arms around his witch and get some sleep.

"You don't deserve her."

Antonin sighed. This wasn't the first time they'd had this exact same conversation. Somehow he knew it wouldn't be the last one either. In the weeks since Thorfinn moved into the cottage the two men had had several conversations along the same lines.

"So you've said before."

"What kind of future do you think you can actually offer her, Dolohov? It's not just going to be the Resistance members who will want nothing to do with her. When this is all over do you really think that _anyone_ is going to want anything to do with her if you're still in her life?"

Thorfinn disappeared back into his room before Antonin had an opportunity to respond. He didn't have anything to say anyway. It was an old argument. A realization he was more than aware of. Life after the Dark Lord would not be easy. Despite all of his actions aiding the Resistance he would still have to answer for his crimes as a Death Eater when the other side took complete control once again.

Antonin returned to their cold bedroom. He'd already washed his face when they first arrived. Slipping into the shower with Hermione would've been the perfect end to that horrid day, but he knew she wouldn't appreciate it. He removed his scorched robes hoping that would be the last time he ever had to dress in the Death Eater garb. Most of his life had been spent in robes just like the ones puddled on the floor. A basic cleansing spell cast over his body cleaned him almost as thoroughly as a shower with a beautiful witch would have done. He climbed between the cool sheets waiting for Hermione to return.

He must have fallen asleep at some point while waiting because his eyes jolted open at the slight shaking of the mattress. The room was pitch black, but he didn't need light to know who was crawling in next to him. Hermione's back was to him when her head hit the pillow. He hesitated before giving in to his desire to pull her back into his arms. Her wet hair was jarring against his bare chest. His sharp hiss made her giggle softly.

"Sorry. I would've charmed it dry, but I don't have a wand."

Antonin kissed her shoulder to show her he had no hard feelings.

"I'm sorry for earlier, _daragaya_. I shouldn't have said what I said."

"No, you shouldn't have," she agreed. "But I can't exactly say that you're wrong. Ginny has been looking for a reason to hate me since we met. She was always jealous of my friendship with Harry. We were friends only because we were often thrown together. I shouldn't have allowed her words to affect me the way they did."

He kissed her again. It pained him that she was so wounded by the careless words of a former friend.

"I missed you, Antonin. It feels like I was gone a lot longer than I was."

"I agree."

He tightened his grip on his tiny witch. She sighed.

"Do you mind if I just go to sleep now?" she asked. "It's been an exhausting day."

He didn't argue. There was no need. She was asleep within moments and he followed soon after.

At some point in the middle of the night Antonin suddenly woke up. He had been dreaming about crumbling staircases and massive fires. Horrible dreams. Terrifying dreams. The miniscule shifting on the unfamiliar bed roused him awake. The comfortable weight that had been in his arms only moments earlier was suspiciously missing. He could hear the door click shut just as his muddled mind realized that his witch was gone.

He wasn't sure what possessed him to get out of bed to follow. Hermione was a light sleeper who often got out of bed multiple times in the middle of the night. He'd grown used to her slipping out from beneath their covers for a few minutes each night. There was never any reason to follow her, but he was on his feet and reaching for the doorknob before he could talk himself out of it.

She wasn't in the bathroom. The door was open and all lights were off. Theo and Thorfinn's bedroom door was shut. Nothing else was upstairs. Faint voices could be heard coming up the stairs from around the kitchen. Antonin descended the stairs slowly to not make any noise.

"Couldn't sleep either, Princess?"

Antonin stayed in the darkness just outside of the kitchen. From his vantage point he could see Thorfinn sitting at the small table with a bottle of fire whiskey. He wasn't surprised. The wizard drank too much. Always had. In the weeks since they were all living under the same roof, Antonin was able to see just how much the younger wizard imbibed on a regular basis.

"Bad dreams," Hermione admitted.

"Well, it's been one fucked up night, hasn't it?"

The clinking of another glass being poured into filled the stillness. Hermione pulled a chair at the table next to Thorfinn out. Antonin couldn't explain what made him lurk just outside the door. Very little of what could be learned through eavesdropping was worth knowing. Too many opportunities for misinterpretation. He was no spy. He'd never had the temperament.

"Where's Rodolphus?" asked Hermione. "I haven't seen him since we got here."

"Pup's gone to his manor to speak with the elves. I don't know what he's doing exactly. Said something about he had to reestablish the wards."

"Oh. Do you think he will forgive me?"

Thorfinn exhaled loudly.

"He's not angry with you, Hermione. It's been a shock, of course, but no, he's not angry. I was standing right next to him when Rabastan was pushing you up the stairs. All of his concern was for you, not his brother. You know he wants to adopt you, right?"

"Rosie told me. It's all a bit overwhelming."

"You should allow him to. I know there's still a chance that you can remove the memory charm on your parents, but you should still do it. Rodolphus' family has a lot of power. No one could hurt you and you would never have to worry about money again."

"That's not important to me."

"You say that now, but trust me, it's important. Especially if it turns out that once all of this is over we can't find actual jobs."

Antonin hated the sense that Rowle was making. There was a very real possibility that once the Dark Lord was defeated there wouldn't be a future left for them in that country. Assuming they could all avoid a prison sentence with the new government in charge, there was always a chance that even with freedom, many doors would be closed to those who fought for the wrong side. The Dolohov family was respected once upon a time in another country. Now it was a name no one was proud of. His only cousin living in the United Kingdom wasted no time in getting married the first chance she could and shedding the name that brought her nothing but grief. His vault was far from empty, though it wouldn't remain so if he couldn't find gainful employment when this was all over.

"I'm fortunate enough that I'll inherit from my uncle," Thorfinn continued. "We don't have as much money as the Lestranges, but I could live comfortably."

Silence fell between the two for a few moments. Antonin briefly considered announcing his presence. He decided against it when they started speaking again.

"So that was the famous Charlotte?"

"Yes." It was apparent that Thorfinn didn't want to mention his ex-girlfriend.

"She's beautiful. I didn't really remember her from school. What? What's wrong?"

"I don't really want to talk about her."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did something happen?"

Thorfinn refilled his glass before answering.

"We shagged up against a tree outside yesterday."

He blurted the words out just as Hermione was taking a sip of her drink. She almost choked. With a grin on his lips, Thorfinn conjured her a glass of water to clear her throat.

"Damn it, Rowle! Warn a girl before you make her choke."

"Sorry, Princess. Your expression was priceless."

"So does that mean you are back together?"

He shook his head.

"No, it just happened. She just showed up in the middle of the fucking Resistance meeting. Wasn't expecting her. I stormed out of the house and she followed. We had a spectacular row. She slapped me and I kissed her. Then well, you can imagine."

"Have you always gotten a hard-on from women who physically hurt you? Because that says something bad about you."

"Yes, well, it was passionate and depressing all at once. I saw her at the Ministry with the bloke who was her sponsor. He will take better care of her than I ever could."

Antonin felt his stomach clench when Hermione reached across the table to rub her hand on his shoulder. Thorfinn placed his own hand over hers to keep it in place. He should've interrupted, but his curiosity was too compelling.

"Do you realize that those days we spent in my cabin were the best days of my entire life?"

"Thorfinn, don't…"

"No, Princess, they were. Going to sleep next to you and waking up with my arms around you. Gods, I even miss your bloody freezing feet and your hair going up my nose. Do you remember when we kissed? Neither of us could breathe when we broke apart. You must have felt what I felt."

Antonin stood in the darkness clenching and unclenching his fists. Hermione lied to him. She said that nothing happened when she was staying at Thorfinn's cabin. She looked him directly in the eyes and lied to him. How could he trust anything she said after that?

"Thorfinn, I'm with Antonin."

"Yeah, I know. Believe me, you don't have to remind me."

His tone was bitter and harsh. He hadn't released hold of her hand.

"I can hear you at night. I know _very well_ you are with Antonin. Do you really expect to have a future with him when this is all over?"

"Thorfinn…"

"No, just listen to me. What kind of future can you have with him? He's a known war criminal. He spent _fifteen_ years in Azkaban! Do you have any idea what that does to a person? What Weasley said to you today is just the beginning. As long as you are with him you can't expect anyone to want anything to do with you. Do you think he will be able to provide for you? Support you? Fuck, he can't even keep you protected."

"You've said all of this to me before."

"And it still applies! Do you honestly believe that life as Dolohov's wife would be any easier than life as Dolohov's whore?"

Hermione ripped her hand out of Thorfinn's grasp in one swift movement. Much like she had earlier in the evening, she brought the palm of her hand hard across Thorfinn's cheek. The wizard gripped both of her wrists in his massive hands. Antonin had his wand out, ready to curse the man if necessary.

"I love you, Hermione. I fucking love you! I would spend the rest of my life keeping you safe and making sure you never had to be afraid again."

"I'm not afraid."

"You've even admitted to me that Antonin terrifies you. Are you really willing to spend the rest of your life with a man that frightens you?"

This was Antonin's worst fear. How many times had he looked into her beautiful whiskey colored eyes and seen the fear she had of him? A memory of the night he approached her in the library covered in blood flashed through his mind. The moment she hid behind Thorfinn while he was torturing Alecto Carrow. When he forced her down into the cellar to find a bound Dolores Umbridge. There were countless other moments in their time together that proved she was afraid of him.

"Just tell me one time that you don't love me, Princess, and I promise I will never, _ever_ bring this up again."

"Of course I love you, Thorfinn…"

The problem with eavesdropping is that one never gets the full impact of the conversation they listened in on. If Antonin had stayed a moment longer he would've heard Hermione add the important clause 'But I am _in love_ with Antonin'. Instead, the furious wizard stormed away from the kitchen right as she admitted that she loved the younger wizard. He climbed the stairs as silently as possible, the words he just heard down in the kitchen still ringing through his ears.

He was lying in bed for only a few moments when the door opened. Hermione slipped back under the covers. Antonin pretended to be asleep. When she reached for him, he rolled over on to his side. When they both were able to finally fall asleep some time later, they were each on the very edge of their side of the bed. It almost felt as if the previous eleven months hadn't happened.

* * *

The infernal front door opening and closing woke Antonin up for the second day in a row. He wished he had known that Lucius' cottage was the new Resistance headquarters before he agreed to stay there. Following McLaggen's reveal of all of their safe houses, Lucius' was the only place that was still safe for large scale meetings. Groaning at the combination of the door and the sun in his eyes, he rolled over towards the center of the bed.

Hermione was staring at him. More than once he'd woken up to find the witch in his bed examining him as he slept. Usually he found it flattering or as an excuse to start the morning off in a more pleasurable manner. That morning, however, he wished she was still asleep. Or even better if she'd already gotten out of bed before he woke.

"What's happening downstairs?" she asked.

"Yesterday several members of the Resistance came to make a plan for attacking the Ministry. I assume they're back to go over what happened yesterday and then plan for the final assault."

"Final assault?"

"We have to take Hogwarts and kill the Dark Lord if we want this nightmare to finally be over."

Hermione snuggled up to his chest without permission. It was something she'd done a thousand times before. Not once had she ever asked for an invitation. Antonin wrapped his arm around the witch tucked safely underneath his chin. He hated that his pride was hurt the night before.

"There will be Weasleys downstairs?"

"There were quite a few yesterday," he confirmed. "Other Undesirables too. We spent most of the time hiding in the kitchen."

"I'm not afraid of them," she declared. "Many of them aren't going to understand or respect my decisions, but it's none of their business."

They lay in bed for a long time without saying a word. It was nothing like the homecoming either of them expected. Nothing like what Antonin assumed would happen after their reunion the night before in the Minister for Magic's office. Part of him hoped they would spend the rest of the night and most of the next day naked in bed reminding each other of how passionate they could be together.

But that hadn't happened. He upset her within minutes of arriving in their room so much that she locked herself in the bathroom. Then she snuck out of bed looking for comfort downstairs in the company of another man. Maybe they only worked when they were isolated in their private seaside cottage. Maybe they were not meant for the real world.

"You can stay up here as long as you want," he suggested.

"Thanks, but that would just fuel their suspicions. Most of them probably already believe you've brainwashed me and are keeping me here against my will."

Her words were like a punch to his gut. Unfortunately, she was right. Is that what they had to look forward to? A lifetime where everyone they met assumed that he was brainwashing her or intimidating her into being with him? He didn't care what everyone else thought about him. It had taken years locked up in the bowels of Azkaban, but it was true. He could happily live the rest of his life not giving a single fuck what the sanctimonious ingrates thought about his life choices. Hermione, however, was naïve and painfully young. Life would be much harder for her with him hanging around.

"Better go face them."

She kissed him lightly on the lips and slid out of bed. He watched her rummage through her beaded bag he'd had the presence of mind to fetch from the cottage in those short five minutes of scavenging. Watching her undress and redress made his primal instincts start to kick into gear. She was so fucking beautiful it physically hurt. He willed his body back under control while she laced up her shoes.

"Are you going to hide up here?"

"No. I'll be down in a minute."

She kissed him once more. The door clicking shut behind her was deafening. He was out of bed in a moment. It wasn't right of him to allow her to head down into the mouth of the Resistance alone because he was nursing hurt feelings. He dressed quickly.

Every member of the damned Resistance was downstairs. Or so it felt when he descended the rickety staircase. There wasn't a single friendly face amongst the crowd. He scanned the room for a glimpse of the curly head he loved. She was deep in conversation with a group of Gryffindors. He recognized Longbottom and at least a couple of the blasted Weasleys. A quick glance at the door leading to the kitchen revealed Thorfinn staring into the same clump of former schoolmates. He liked her being there every bit as much as Antonin did.

A massive Saint Bernard sat at the foot of the stairs watching the crowd pass by. Several of the very same people who would openly condemn Rodolphus to his face were gladly scratching behind his fluffy ears. He would've liked to have seen the little Weasley bitch's face when she found out the dog she was happily lavishing attention on was really a wizard she'd been taught to fear all of her life. Too bad it was Rodolphus' secret to tell.

Antonin finished his descent into the main room of the cottage. Weasley glared at him before making her way towards the area of the room where her father was seated. Antonin rubbed the top of Rodolphus' head.

"Let's go outside for a walk, boy."

Rodolphus' tail began to wag furiously. He rushed towards the front door waiting impatiently for Antonin to open it up. Several witnesses laughed at the excited canine. Antonin took one final look around the room before following Rodolphus outside. Thorfinn was still watching Hermione. At least he knew that no one would be able to harm her as long as the blonde was watching. He might detest the man with a passion, but he could trust that as long as he were alive, Thorfinn Rowle would do whatever it took to keep Hermione safe.

The wizard and the curious dog walked about a hundred yards away from the cottage in complete silence. When they were far enough away to have privacy, Rodolphus transformed back into his human form.

"Enjoy the scratches back there?" Antonin teased, though he was a little put out that the man would willingly allow the little bitch to touch him.

"You would be amazed what you can learn when no one thinks you are human," Rodolphus answer. "I'm just the happy, friendly, fluffy dog. No one is intimidated by me. No one is nervous about speaking in front of me. I allowed the Longbottom boy to scratch my belly earlier. He called me a 'good boy' for ripping out Alecto's throat."

"I won't argue with him there, but you'll forgive me if I don't scratch your belly."

Rodolphus laughed at the irritated expression on his friend's face.

"Were you serious yesterday about wanting to offer a magical adoption to Hermione?"

"You don't waste any time," Rodolphus replied. "Yes, absolutely. I was as serious as I could possibly be. Hermione gave my life a purpose even when all I could do was follow her around as a dog. I love her very much. She is the daughter I will never have. Why?"

"I can't imagine she would be against it. She loves you too. I think you should do it as soon as possible. Today even. We can perform the spells here and now that the Ministry is within our allies' hands, we could even file the necessary paperwork to make it official."

Lestrange stared at Antonin for several moments before he responded.

"Why the rush, Antonin?"

"You know we are going to attack the castle soon. It is going to be dangerous. I want to make sure that Hermione is provided for. I want to make certain that she is under the protection of someone I trust."

"Why do I get the feeling you are about to do something noble and foolish, my friend?"


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter Forty One

The sounds of the conversations downstairs made Hermione exceptionally nervous. She had spent the greater part of the last year only in very small circles of people. With the exception of the horrible night of Rabastan's Battle Anniversary party and the night before at the Ministry, she couldn't remember the last time she was in the same place with more than five or six people at the same time. It was somewhat overwhelming to know that each step she took down the stairs brought her even closer to people she had all but given up hope of ever seeing again.

Her arrival at the bottom of the stairs was met with a mixture of responses. Mostly the Resistance members were friendly. They greeted her with warm smiles and the occasional hug if they had once been close. A few, most notably Ginny Weasley of course, seemed to prefer to pretend that she simply did not exist. Hermione couldn't help but prefer the ones who didn't act as if she was alive. It was easier.

"'Mione! Over here!"

A smiling George Weasley stood in front of the fireplace alone. He bore none of the ill will that his younger sister obviously had. Hermione slipped around several Resistance members she vaguely remembered to get to the tall redhead on the other side of the room. George wasted no time in completely enveloping her much smaller frame in a tight hug. She had to take a steadying deep breath when his arms were around her to prevent from breaking down in sobs.

"I am so glad you are all right after last night," he whispered as he squeezed her just a little bit tighter.

"How is Angelina?"

George carefully stepped back a bit from the embrace leaving his arms still around Hermione. They were able to look each other straight in the eyes from the new position.

"Perfect. She's at home sleeping right now. Wore her out welcoming her back last night."

His waggling eyebrows caused her to erupt into a fit of giggles. If there was one thing that George Weasley was an expert at, it was making her laugh. She was pleased to see in her limited interactions with him that he had not been completely broken by the loss of his twin, his younger brother and his mother all in the same day. He was still grieving, but he was also still her same George. She playfully swatted his arm.

"Good for Angelina then," she said, stepping out of the circle of his arms completely. "I was concerned about what happened to the hostages last night. Where did they go?"

"We were able to get some portkeys authorized by the bloke who heads the Department of Magical Transportation. All of the masked Death Eaters on the stage were actually working with Yaxley," George explained. "The portkeys brought them to a rather posh Muggle hotel suite in London provided by Lucius. They remained there until the end of the takeover."

"And are they all okay?"

"Seem to be. Ryan's wandering around the cottage somewhere. Kingsley refuses to let him out of his sight. I daresay you'll run into him at some point. Malfoy is actually headed to Ireland to reunite with Luna and their little one. Bill took Fleur to her mother's sister's house in France last night. He only just got back a short time ago. She's going to say there until the baby is born. Hopefully by then this will all be over."

"And Hannah and her baby?"

"Safe and sound in Hannah's Muggle cousin's house," Neville answered.

Hermione stared at the new arrival. So much had happened since they last parted company at the Hogsmeade caves. She was incredibly hurt by his actions and his words even if she could somewhat understand where he was coming from. Before either of them could say another word they were joined by Bill Weasley. He too, seemed hesitant to speak.

"I wish to apologize for my earlier behavior, Hermione," began Bill. "Thank you for everything you did last night to save Fleur and our baby."

"I agree, 'Mione," added Neville. "We owe you a great deal. We regret not letting you join the Resistance earlier. It was wrong to not trust you."

"I'm not going to lie and say I wasn't upset by that, but I think we should move on. We have to work together from here on out."

She quickly gave Bill and Neville short hugs. Both men actually let out a quiet relieved sigh when she turned away from them. No doubt they had been dreading their first interaction with her following their abysmal treatment earlier in the year. Hermione no longer wanted to be stuck in the crowd of self-righteous Gryffindors. Her eyes scanned the room to fall on Thorfinn standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen. It was obvious he had been staring at her. He wasn't even attempting to hide that fact. With her excuses given to the young men she was crowded around, she carefully pushed her way through the gathering crowd to the kitchen. Thorfinn stepped aside to allow her access.

"Are you still upset?" she asked remembering their conversation from very early that morning.

Thorfinn simply sighed before uttering a word.

"Maybe I didn't choose my words wisely last night, but I still meant what I said."

"I'm very sorry, Thorfinn, but I meant what I said too. I love you, but not as you deserve to be loved. You are my best friend. Please don't waste your time dreaming that will change into something more."

He exited the kitchen through the back door. She hated hurting him. The guilt was eating away at her, but she wanted him to know the truth. Her heart belonged to Antonin. Assuming he didn't do anything stupid, it always would. She sat down at the kitchen table to pour herself a cup of tea.

Only a short time later her solitude was interrupted by the arrival of Rodolphus. With a bright smile she gestured to the empty chair next to her at the table. He crossed the room, dropped a kiss on the top of her head and sat down. His expression was serious. Hermione had no doubt there was something on his mind, but she wanted to give him the opportunity to speak for himself when he was ready.

"Hermione, my dear, I was wondering if you knew anything about magical adoptions?"

She couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her features. Rodolphus was being so solemn.

"I've learned a little bit about them from Rosie and Thorfinn," she admitted.

"I wonder if you might not be willing to allow me to adopt you into my family?"

He was so nervous posing the important question that Hermione thought she was going to commit a grave error by bursting out in loud laughter. He could just be so bloody adorable without even trying. She reached across the table to take one of his hands in hers for an extra bit of reassurance.

"I won't deny that I am very interested, Rodolphus, but I'm afraid I have a few questions."

"I would be more concerned if you didn't."

He tempered his cheeky response with a grin that made her smile.

"I think I understand the basics of how it all works by now, but I wonder how will it affect my Muggle family?"

"It shouldn't affect them at all," he responded earnestly. "They will always be your parents. I would _never_ ask you to turn your back on them. In fact, when this is all over I would be pleased to take you to Australia. You know that I have some experience and talent with memory charms. I would very much like to try to help you reverse the charm you placed on your parents."

His response was not what Hermione was expecting. She shouldn't have been surprised by his generosity, of course. Without another thought she threw her arms around his neck and began to unashamedly sob into his strong shoulder. He had completely overwhelmed her. Rodolphus took her outburst in stride. He wrapped his arms around her back and whispered soothing words into her ear until she was calm once more. If there had ever been any doubt that he would have made a wonderful father, those were put to rest entirely in Hermione's mind at that moment.

"I want you to be an official part of my family, my girl. I would make you my heiress."

Hermione gently pulled herself out of his embrace. She wiped at her eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous. There's still plenty of time for you to have a family. We just have to find you a nice witch."

Rodolphus laughed, warming Hermione's heart even further.

"I wish I had as much confidence in my future love life as you do."

She smiled at him again without pressing the issue. Some day she was certain he would fall in love and after being married to Bellatrix, he really had nowhere to go but up. Hermione refused to give up her hopes that everyone she loved would find happiness when the war was finally over.

"As my heiress you would have access to the family vault. No need for you to escape on the back of a dragon anymore."

His tone was teasing but she still felt a tiny bit of guilt about stealing from his vault during the horcrux hunt. If it had only belonged to Bellatrix or Rabastan, she wouldn't have cared one bit. Rodolphus was different. The thought that she would never again have to worry about money was liberating. She could do a great deal of good work with nearly unlimited funds.

"You are free to live in any of our family's properties. I understand, of course, if you would prefer to live elsewhere instead of the manor. I'm certain my solicitor has a list of acceptable properties."

"That's very generous, but I'm anxious to return to the cottage."

"Of course. And then there is the issue of the Lestrange family seat on the Wizengamot. No one has sat there since my father died while we were locked up in Azkaban. Rabastan sat on the Wizengamot after the war, but it was a farce. I imagine there will be a number of changes when the Dark Lord falls. I would be proud to have you representing my family."

"Wow, thank you, Rodolphus." She was more than a little overwhelmed by the offer. "But wouldn't you prefer to represent your family?"

"I must be certain first that I will be pardoned for my crimes before I can truly plan the future. Antonin and I were pardoned for all crimes committed before May 2, 1998, but there's still some uncertainty. Besides, I've never been interested. You would do a much better job."

She could hardly breathe at the knowledge that she would be able to represent her new family in the government. There was real, actual power in the Wizengamot. She would be a part of the very organization that was responsible for making laws. It was everything she had ever wanted. No longer would she just simply be a clever Muggleborn witch with a large mouth. She would be a respected member of their government.

"I'm not sure what to say."

"Say 'yes', please. Let me make certain that you will be provided for in case what we try to do here fails. If you don't agree, we run the risk that the little cretin my sister-in-law carries will inherit the lot."

They both cringed at the thought. While neither of them could claim to know Rabastan's widow, they would only imagine what kind of woman she must be to be interested in shackling herself to Rabastan for the entirety of her life.

"I would be honored, Rodolphus."

He stood up from the kitchen table with a huge grin on his handsome face. After a kiss to the top of her head, he begged her to stay put for a few minutes. When he returned he brought Lucius, Reina and Theo with him. Lucius led the group into his and Reina's private bedroom just off the main living room. They received several strange looks from the Resistance members, but no one chose to stop them to ask questions.

Once inside Lucius led Rodolphus and Hermione over to a small sofa in front of the fireplace. He was going to act as their official bonder because he once performed the same spells for distant relatives. They preferred to keep the adoption as private as possible in the beginning. There would be plenty of time once the Dark Lord had been defeated to suffer the indignant questions of the ignorant. Lucius ran through a quick explanation of the process. When he mentioned the exchange of blood, Rodolphus' cheeks grew red and he interrupted to address Hermione.

"There is a bit of blood magic involved."

Allowing another witch or wizard access to your blood was not a thing to be taken lightly. A great deal of power resides in the blood. Giving that blood away could give someone power over the one who donated.

"I trust you implicitly, Rodolphus."

Lucius grasped Hermione's hand. With a swift swipe of his wand and a sharp pain, bright red blood began bubbling up out of her palm. Once he repeated the same action with Rodolphus he made them press their hands against each other. A bright gold light shot out of the end of Lucius' wand slowly winding itself around their hands. In the moments before the chanting began Hermione marveled at the similarities between this ceremony and wizarding weddings. Before she could dwell on the facts too closely, Lucius began a deep chant in Latin. She tried to focus on the words but found she couldn't understand anything. Her head grew light as she could actually feel her magic shifting and changing. It was an intoxicating feeling over before she really was aware.

Rodolphus helped her up to her unsteady feet once Lucius completed the ritual. Reina was the first to approach her. She kissed Hermione once on each cheek.

"I, Reina Violetta Rowle, bear witness that from this day forward Hermione Granger is now Hermione Lestrange."

Theo and Lucius both repeated her actions. She turned to a blushing Rodolphus with a bright smile.

"I suppose we didn't really discuss the name change."

Hermione reached out to take Rodolphus' hands in hers.

"I am honored to have your name. Together we will make it something to be proud of again."

"You can still go by Granger if you prefer. Lestrange is only for official purposes."

"I'm certain there are plenty of people in the next room who would rather die than call me Hermione Lestrange, but that's their problem."

Lucius asked them to sign an official looking parchment to be filed at the Ministry. Hermione didn't even hesitate to sign _Hermione Jean Granger Lestrange_. Lucius offered to run the paperwork to the Ministry to be filed. Both Hermione and Rodolphus thanked him repeatedly for all of his help. They then thanked their two witnesses.

"At least now no Muggleborn Commission could ever arrest you," said Theo. "You are as Pureblood as they come. Wait until Draco finds out."

Hermione shared a quiet laugh with the young Slytherin. Draco would indeed be surprised to find out she was now an official member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

* * *

Planning a full scale attack on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with the Resistance was a monumental task. Hermione expected it to be far more interesting than it actually was. The last time the school was attacked there hadn't been a plan. She along with Harry and Ron had hoped to be able to slip into the school undetected. Their plans were thwarted of course when Lord Voldemort figured out what they were doing and when Neville alerted the DA and the Order.

By mid-morning the leaders of the Resistance along with Yaxley, Travers and the group Theo continued to jokingly refer to as Hermione's Harem had been arguing for over three hours. It seemed that everybody had a plan they thought worthy enough to share with the group. Most of them weren't. All anyone could seem to agree with was the sooner the attack took place, the better. After careful deliberation Christmas morning was voted on to be the day. They had two days to prepare. Or really by that point only about a day and a half.

It appeared that no matter what course of action was being debated, Antonin wanted Hermione to stay behind with the healers. It was known that at least a small skirmish would be required within the village of Hogsmeade regardless of their plans. A base of operations was to be set up within the village. Antonin wanted her safely distanced from the fighting. She grew very frustrated with each new proposed course of action that would have her safely ensconced in the least exciting part of the campaign.

Finally she could take it no more. She stood up in the middle of the meeting, scandalizing many of the participants. With her hand and most of her arm fully submerged into the depths of her beaded bag, she began to speak over an even more pompous than usual Percy Weasley.

"If _anyone_ attempts to keep me out of the castle, you will all be fighting without a very valuable resource."

Her hand finally found the item she was searching for. With a quick tug she pulled her hand and the old piece of parchment out of her bag. Only a few present understood the significance of the item. They began to grow excited while the vast majority of the room didn't understand what she was talking about.

"How did you get that, 'Mione?" George asked. "I assumed Harry had it when he died."

"I took it from him during the final battle," she explained. "Thought it might come in useful one day. Looks like I was right."

Those gathered around the living room that had never been on a late night adventure with Harry Potter were thoroughly confused. How could an old piece of parchment be much of a resource? Hermione tapped the page with the wand Thorfinn recovered from the beach after McLaggen's attack. She had to take a deep breath to prevent herself from crying when the familiar lines making up her beloved school began to form on the parchment after the mutter pass phrase.

Immediately she could see the stationary dot bearing the name 'Tom Riddle' inside the Headmaster's Office. A hurried scan of the parchment proved what they had suspected all along. There were very few Death Eaters currently stationed within the castle. She felt a jolt in her stomach when the dot marked 'Minerva McGonagall' started moving around with hospital wing next to two other dots marked 'Poppy Pomfrey' and 'Pomona Sprout'. She had no idea that any of those three ladies were still alive let alone still inside the castle.

"This is called the Marauder's Map," she clarified. "It has been a secret item known only to a select few since it was created in the seventies by James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. It shows the layout of the castle, who is inside and where they are located and it always shows secret passages."

"This map shows secret passages?" asked Kingsley, his disbelief evident.

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the question. Had she not _just_ said that it showed secret passages?

"You have an expert on the castle's secret passages right here," she said, pointing to George.

The surviving Weasley twin gleefully took the offered map into his hands. A light seemed to shine across his face at the relic from his school days. After he spent a moment reviewing the limited activity present in the castle, George brought it over to Kingsley to allow him a look. It didn't take long to come to the conclusion that the former auror was very impressed indeed by the map. He passed it on to the next person so that everyone else in the room could see what he saw.

"The key is getting to the Dark Lord," Antonin declared. "Cut off the head and the body dies. Our priority should be getting to him first."

If there were still those present in the room who distrusted the so-called former Death Eaters, and there certainly were, his announcement made sense regardless of their personal feelings. Too many of the ideas brought forward to the group involved some sort of plan to kill all of the Death Eaters and Snatchers within the castle grounds first and _then_ dealing with Voldemort. Antonin's idea made the most sense.

"You Know Who is mortal now," Hermione proclaimed. "Professor Dumbledore asked that Harry, Ron and I tell no one what it was we were doing that final year before the battle. I see no harm in explaining now."

She kept the entire room captivated for almost an entire half hour with the explanations of horcruxes and then how they spent their year during the hunt. Most had never heard anything from that ill-fated expedition. Naturally most of her listeners were completely horrified to learn the lengths that the Dark Lord had gone to to make himself immortal. Throughout her explanation, Antonin and Yaxley both provided their own observations of how weak the Dark Lord had become since the end of the war. Both men were of the opinion that it wouldn't take much at all for him to finally die. In fact, they were convinced he would soon die on his own even without outside influence.

A solid plan was decided on soon after. After hours of meeting, the Resistance dispersed. They would attack Hogwarts very early on Christmas Day. Everyone had a specific purpose and part to play in the attack. For the first time in almost two years, there was a sense of optimism amongst the exhausted fighters against the Dark Lord and his followers.

* * *

Hermione slipped up to the bedroom she shared with Antonin early in the evening on Christmas Eve. For days they had hardly said a word to each other. It was disheartening. She knew he was frustrated with her insistence that she play a more active role in the Hogwarts attack, but it didn't explain why he hadn't touched her since the first morning she snuggled up to his chest.

Despite their heated reunion in the office of the Minister for Magic, they had not been intimate since days before she was kidnapped by Cormac. She tried not to read too much into the fact that it seemed that he avoided physical touches with her, but it was beginning to hurt. She was afraid what it might mean for them that he no longer reached across their shared bed to pull her into the safety of his arms each night. Or what it might mean that any time she tried to kiss him he turned away from the embrace.

She was afraid that he was not over what happened to her while she was under Rabastan's _care_. He was hesitant to ask questions beyond the initial assurances that she was all right. Rodolphus had point blank asked her the day after she was rescued from the Ministry exactly what his younger brother had done to her while they were alone. He was relieved to find out that he had not been able to do as much as he wished. Hermione was certain that Rodolphus would've relayed that information to Antonin at the first chance. Was this what Reina complained about happened to her with Lucius?

"Going to bed already?" she asked the moment she stepped inside the room.

Antonin was lying in bed underneath the covers with his eyes wide open staring at the cracked ceiling. It was not even half past nine. He turned his head slightly at the sound of her voice.

"We have an early morning," he answered. "I thought it best to get some sleep before it was too late."

"What is wrong with you, Antonin?"

She didn't mean to blurt her question out quite so bluntly. More than once she had planned this very conversation out in her head. None of the practiced scenarios involved her coming straight to the matter. Antonin didn't seem surprised by the frank question. He turned his face away from hers to stare back at the ceiling.

"You have hardly looked at me since the Ministry," she continued. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, of course you haven't."

She climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips. It was a position she'd been in countless times that usually led to him running his hands all over her body and pulling her down to kiss him. That night, however, he could hardly even look at her. She could feel tears prickling the corners of her eyes. When she leaned down to try to kiss him, an act that always got his attention, Antonin placed both of his large hands on her hips. Carefully he pulled her off and pushed her to her empty side of the bed.

Her pride was certainly injured. Not wanting to burst into tears in front of the man who just rebuffed her advances, Hermione leapt off of the bed and exited the room. She wasn't paying attention to where she was going. Her eyes were filled with tears. She bumped into a very solid back on the way into the bathroom. Thorfinn spun around and laughed.

"Eager to corner me, Princess?" he teased. "I was just about to take a shower. Want to conserve water and shower together?"

She was too embarrassed about what had just happened in her bedroom to engage Thorfinn in his bantering. She tried to turn to head towards the stairs, but a hand on her arm stopped her. Thorfinn gently forced her chin up to make her meet his eyes. The smile that had been present on his face just moments earlier was gone as soon as he saw her watery eyes.

"What happened?" he demanded, his tone low and dangerous.

"Nothing," she answered. It wasn't a lie. There had been a lot of _nothing_ happening lately.

"Then why are you crying, Hermione?"

"Forget it."

She wrenched her chin out of his grasp. Just a few steps later she was back inside her bedroom. Antonin seemed surprised that she was back so quickly, but neither of them said a word. She stripped down quickly to put her pajamas on. He didn't even watch her which was a clear indication that something was truly wrong. He was always easily distracted by her changing clothes. Once dressed she slipped into the bed. It seemed to take a long time for her brain to finally shut itself off enough to fall asleep.

In the middle of the night she woke up with the unnerving sense that she was being watched. She rolled over carefully to not shake the bed. Antonin's eyes were wide open. Neither of them said a word. Just stared at each other for a long time. He was the one to finally reach out. Their lovemaking was fierce and passionate and brutal all at once. When they both found their release, she collapsed on top of his sweat slicked chest. His arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly to his chest. She fell asleep with tears in her eyes. She was worried what his plans for the attack the next day were because she had the lingering sense he was trying to tell her goodbye.

* * *

By the time she woke up the next morning at four, the bed was empty. She could hear sounds of movement coming from downstairs. The plan was to strike as early as possible that morning when the fewest possible defenders were likely to be there. Not wanting to dwell on the depressing feelings she was still experiencing from the encounter in the middle of the night, she quickly dressed for the day.

There was a crowd in the kitchen. Reina was in her element feeding the troops. Thorfinn was hovering over his sister, watching her every movement. Theo was rubbing his eyes at the kitchen table. He was likely to never be a morning person. Rodolphus and Antonin were nowhere to be found. She started to ask, but stopped herself. Her stomach felt queasy so she politely declined all offers of breakfast. She wanted the day to be over with as soon as possible.

The missing members of their group entered the kitchen just after half past to tell everyone it was time to leave. They crossed the grounds in silence. Hermione couldn't help but notice how Antonin refused to meet her eye the entire time they walked towards the Apparition point. He was going to do something stupid. She was painfully aware that he had no plans to survive the attack that day. His odd behavior over the past few days began to make a painful sense.

They Apparated to a spot just outside of Hogsmeade where a large group was already gathering. Rodolphus kissed her cheek and begged her to be careful before he and Theo broke apart to go to their assigned comrades. Thorfinn glared at Antonin for what must have been the thousandth time in days. He started to say something to Hermione, but ended up just walking away with his sister and Lucius.

"Are you confident that our plan will work?" Hermione asked, desperate for _anything_ to say to break up the silence.

"It is simple, but sometimes simple is the best," Antonin answered, refusing to look her in the eye. He was scanning the area searching for the other members of their assigned group. "Too many moving parts to a plan can cause confusion and mistakes."

The sun wouldn't be up for quite some time. She was shivering in the darkness, partly from the chill and partly from nerves. Antonin placed an arm around her shoulders for the briefest of moments. The gesture was intended to provide comfort but it only served to make her feel even more bereft when his arm was removed. They remained in silence until they were joined by Neville, Kingsley, Yaxley and Bill.

"As soon as we get the signal, we will rush into the village and head straight for Honeydukes," Kingsley explained. "We should be covered the entire way to the shop by Resistance members, but we should remain vigilant."

"Constant vigilance," Hermione muttered, resisting the urge to roll her eyes and snort.

The Resistance was breaking up into multiple groups. George Weasley had been in charge of describing all of the known secret passages into the castle. Groups were assigned to each passage as well as the more public entrance at the gates. They were hoping that the Resistance would be able to sneak into the castle before setting off any troublesome alarms. Priority treatment was being given to Hermione's group as they were the ones that were actually going straight for Lord Voldemort. Once their passage to Honeydukes was secure, the attack would begin.

Hermione's thoughts were continuously on Antonin instead of the task at hand. She knew all too well that being distracted in a moment like that could end up costing her life or cause someone else's death. Despite all of her efforts to attempt to rein in her subconscious, she could focus on nothing else but the fear she had that Antonin was planning on attempting some foolish suicide attempt. She knew he would do whatever it took to keep her safe even if that meant he was going to sacrifice himself. Obviously he had spent too much time sharing a bed with a Gryffindor. Reckless, foolish bravery was contagious.

"Let's go over the plan one more time," Kingsley said in a harsh whisper to the group. "Once we get the signal we run to Honeydukes. The door should already be open and waiting for us. We rush to the trapdoor. Take the passage into the castle. Hermione will check the map before we exit the witch's statue. We get to the Headmaster's Office as quickly as possible. Neville and I will go upstairs while the rest of you will keep guard."

Nods of agreement came from each member of their small group. Hermione's main focus was keeping an eye on the map to make certain they weren't caught unawares by any potential defenders. Well, that and trying to do whatever she could to keep Antonin from acting like a complete arse and getting himself killed. What happened inside of the Headmaster's Office was a concern for Neville and Kingsley. They were simply to defend the staircase.

The moment George's coyote patronus appeared in front of them, they were energized. All six ran as swiftly as they could straight into the heart of the village. From the corner of her eye as she ran past, Hermione could see Resistance members lining the streets creating a protective barrier. They were inside of the sweets shop very soon after. George was standing at the trap door in the cellar assisting each person down into the passage.

It felt like an eternity before they finally reached the entrance to the third floor corridor. Hermione tapped the Marauder's Map to view the inhabitants of the castle. The Dark Lord was still staying fairly stationary in the Headmaster's Office. Only a single Death Eater was stationed outside of the spiral staircase. No one was patrolling the corridors from their position to the office. Barring any unpleasant surprises they should be able to make the office with no problems. Once she relayed this information to the group, Kingsley sent seven patronuses off the other seven Resistance groups. They would enter the castle at the same time to confuse Voldemort.

The time was not even yet six in the morning and the castle felt dead. Most of its inhabitants were still safely tucked away inside their warm beds expecting a lazy Christmas morning. By the time they entered the third floor corridor out of the statue, hardly a warning was uttered. They encountered only a few combatants that were easily dispatched without much effort. It was true that most of the capable acolytes of the Dark Lord had either defected or been killed. What was remaining was somewhat embarrassing.

When they reached the staircase leading to the Headmaster's Office there still was only one guard. Bill sent a stunner straight to the man's chest, knocking him over in seconds. Hermione could see Yaxley and Antonin both shaking their heads in disbelief that a fellow Death Eater had been so easily taken out. They would've been embarrassed if they were still loyal followers.

"You lot stay down here and keep us covered," ordered Kingsley.

Antonin ran up the stairs with Neville and Kingsley going completely off-script. Hermione considered rushing after him but both Yaxley and Bill prevented her from running. They demanded that she keep an eye on the map.

She couldn't believe he would be so foolish as to take off running _towards_ his former master. What was to keep Voldemort from sending an Avada straight for him the moment he stepped into his office? He was a known traitor and the Dark Lord did not deal with traitors mercifully. She stared at the dot bearing her lover's name with a single-minded obsession. He moved around the Headmaster's Office alongside the top two Undesirables in the country.

Time seemed to have no meaning in those moments waiting for the end of the war to finally come. She would take her eyes off of the map for a second at a time to look at a nearby window to view the position of the sun. In the time that they had been gone upstairs she assumed that the sun had risen to the highest point in the sky and was on its way back down. She was surprised to find that it was still pitch black outside.

"What's taking so long?" she hissed mostly to herself.

"They haven't been gone that long, Hermione," reassured Bill. "We just have to be patient."

She tried to distract her worrying thoughts by surveying the rest of the castle. The other groups were already inside and some were engaged in fighting. Thorfinn's group was surrounded by the largest number of Death Eaters. She hoped that he wouldn't be foolish enough to get himself killed.

Her eyes always returned to the little black mark with Antonin's name. He was standing in the middle of the Headmaster's Office. Kingsley and Neville were flanking the dot marked 'Tom Riddle'. She was so focused on the dots that the moment the loudest shriek she'd ever heard in her life erupted through the castle, she dropped the map to the floor. Yaxley fell to the floor screaming at the top of his lungs. He sounded as if he was burning up from the inside out. Bill dropped to his knees to examine the man.

Hermione used the moment of inattention to run up the spiral staircase at full speed. When she threw open the door to the office, she almost fainted. Neville was standing in front of the body of Lord Voldemort with the Sword of Gryffindor pierced into the cavity that must have once held a human heart. Black ooze was seeping out of the wound reminiscent of what destroying his horcruxes were like.

Antonin was lying on the floor dead to the world. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw how motionless he was. She threw herself down on the floor to pull his head into her lap. Fearing that he was dead but sensing the warmth still present in his skin, Hermione pointed her wand at his body to cast a rennervate spell.

His beautiful dark brown eyes stared into hers. She didn't even attempt to stop the relieved tears that began to pour out of her eyes. Antonin lifted his left arm. He pulled at the sleeve revealing nothing but clear, unblemished skin. The Dark Mark was gone. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He was completely overwhelmed.

"You're free," Hermione whispered.

His tears increased. She could hardly believe that the war was finally over and they were both alive to witness the end. After allowing him several minutes to savor the moment and regain his bearings, Hermione helped Antonin up to his still-shaky feet. Whatever had happened to the Death Eaters when their master was killed was obviously unbearably painful. She was concerned that he would topple down the staircase every moment they were descending it.

"Looks like everyone is congregating in the Great Hall," Bill announced when they reached the corridor. He was holding on to the map Hermione dropped. "We should go give the good news."

Celebrations had already begun by the time their group arrived to the Great Hall. Upon their entrance the roars and cheers from the gathered Resistance reached deafening levels. A long row of captured Death Eaters made up one entire side of the Great Hall. No doubt the Resistance used the moments they were all passed out due to the pain to their advantage. Hermione was excited to see Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout speaking with several of the Resistance leaders completely unharmed. Madam Pomfrey was rushing around attending what appeared to be mostly superficial wounds.

Hermione scanned the hall and did not breathe a sigh of relief until she had accounted for Theo, Rodolphus and Thorfinn. All three were in good spirits. She reached over to grasp Antonin's hand in hers.

"This all feels rather anti-climactic," she admitted. "I expected it to be harder."

Antonin kissed the top of her head.

"That's why it was so important to strike when they were weakened. It also helps that we've been thinning their ranks."

She spun around to face her wizard.

"Can we finally go home?"

His cheeks flushed pink at the question. Or at least what was visible under at least four days of heavy stubble. With her hand still in his, Antonin led her out into the Entrance Hall and then out the massive front door. Many tried to stop to engage them in conversation, but Antonin was resolute in his determination. Hermione grew a bit excited thinking that he was entirely focused on getting them home as quickly as possible.

Once they were on the gravel path leading to the main gates and away from all of the other revelers, Antonin stopped abruptly. He gripped both of her hands in his. Hermione felt her stomach begin to twist and clench into knots. Whatever he was about to say was something she was certain she didn't want to hear.

"There's no easy way to say this, but I'm leaving."

She didn't understand. Nothing about what he just said made any sense at all.

"You can't leave just when this is all over. Where are you going? Can I come with you?"

Antonin leaned down to kiss her forehead.

"You deserve so much better than me, _daragaya_."

All at once it made perfect, devastating sense.

"Don't you dare! I love you, Antonin. Does that not mean anything?"

"It means more than you will ever know."

"Then how can you leave? How can you throw all that we have away?"

She hated how desperate she sounded, but it was entirely how she felt. This man meant more to her than she was even aware until the moment he declared his intention to leave.

"You will never be truly happy with me," he replied.

"That's my decision to make."

Antonin sighed and dropped her hands.

"Do you honestly believe that life as Dolohov's wife would be any easier than life as Dolohov's whore?"

It was instinct that brought the palm of her hand sharply across his cheek. How dare he? How dare he throw Thorfinn's painful words into her face? Suddenly his distant behavior of the past few days began to make more sense. It was obvious that he had been eavesdropping on her conversation with Thorfinn that night in the kitchen. Would he be jealous of the younger wizard for the rest of their lives? Did he not hear the part where she clearly said that she was in love with _him_?

"I wish you nothing but the best, _lyubimaya_."

Antonin began his walk down the gravel path alone. Hermione could do nothing but stand there and sob watching him walk out of her life. How could he be so cold and so thoughtless to leave her on the day that should've been the happiest of their entire lives? Antonin never once turned back around the entire walk to the Hogwarts gates. Maybe he feared he wouldn't have the strength to carry through with what he believed would be best if he had to see her one last time.

The moment he was free of the anti-Apparition wards on the castle grounds he was gone. A gut-wrenching sob came ripping out of Hermione's chest. If it were possible to physically feel her heart burst into a million pieces, she was experiencing that pain. When her sobs grew strong enough to threaten her body with tumbling her to the ground, she felt a pair of strong, massive arms pull her back into a broad, familiar chest.

* * *

 **Oh, Antonin, honey, what have you done?!**

 _Author's Note: There is still one chapter left. I have it all outlined and ready to go. Hope to have it up very soon. Will he realize his massive mistake and return? Will she allow him? Will Thorfinn finally get his own witch and leave Antonin's alone? So many, many questions, but they will all be answered._

 _I'm sorry. Please don't hate me… too much._


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter Forty Two

May 10, 2001

Antonin had just completed another successful day at his new job in the San Francisco branch of Gringotts. Following the horrible Christmas morning of a year and half earlier he'd wandered the world aimlessly trying to forget the bushy haired seductress he'd left behind in England. He would've been content to drink himself to death in any number of public establishments throughout the world, but when the sobering reality that his vault was almost completely empty finally made it through the hazy, intoxicated fog he'd been living in for exactly five hundred and two days, he knew he had to do something. This led him to contacting one of his relatives in America who knew he had always had a talent for cursebreaking.

The job itself wasn't too bad. He got to travel extensively through the Americas. Very rarely were two days exactly the same. In just the first two months he had already visited fourteen different countries he probably would have never gone to otherwise. The only downside to the job was that it afforded him plenty of time alone to think. That's where copious amounts of fire whiskey came in handy.

It was just another Thursday. He'd returned back to his home branch just that morning from three days in Ecuador. Once he submitted his reports to the less than genial American goblins, he headed straight for his new favorite watering hole just steps from the bank. It was a rundown bar in the less than fashionable section of the San Francisco Wizarding District. Very few tourists which was exactly how he liked it. There was less chance of running into an old acquaintance on holiday in the dingy, somewhat smelly establishment.

"You are not an easy wizard to find, Antonin."

He snorted into his glass at the familiar sound of Rodolphus' voice. The elder wizard took a seat on the barstool next to his. Antonin wouldn't admit to being surprised to see him there. Part of him always assumed that one day he would be found.

"That was rather the point."

Rodolphus placed a rather official looking parchment on the bar in front of Antonin. The recipient sneered at it for a moment. He knocked back the last of his fire whiskey before picking it up. To pacify the man sitting next to him he started to read it under his breath.

"By order of the Wizengamot in partnership with the Minister for Magic… Antonin Vadimovich Dolohov… in recognition for his heroism and bravery…" He began to laugh at the last part. As if he were some sentimental Gryffindor swayed by emotions and the sense of what was good and fair! "Is hereby pardoned for all crimes committed in conjunction with his service of the late Tom Riddle."

He was officially free to return to the United Kingdom whenever he chose. The date on the parchment showed the pardon was granted six months earlier. Had it taken Rodolphus that long to track him down?

"She fought like hell to get that for you," Rodolphus explained.

"Even after…?"

"Yes, even after you ripped her still-beating heart from her chest and trampled it in the dust, her concern has been solely for you."

Antonin tried not to let the overwhelming emotion he was experiencing at the realization that she cared enough to do this for him show. On most days he only needed a tiny bit of encouragement to risk his freedom to cross the ocean to find his witch. Of course now that immediate imprisonment was no longer a concern…

"She has been working nonstop getting pardons for all of us repentant Death Eaters, Theo, Thorfinn, Yaxley, Travers, basically anyone who fought with us at the Ministry and the final battle."

 _Oh, so it wasn't just for me. Of course it wasn't, you sentimental, old fool. See what love has turned you into? A pathetic, weak shell of the wizard you once were._

"Our girl is probably the most hated witch in Britain right now," Rodolphus explained.

"She's not _our_ girl anymore," Antonin muttered.

Rodolphus continued on as if he hadn't heard the petulant remark.

"She's cut a great deal of ties with her former life. Many of her so-called mates no longer want anything to do with her because of her work with us. We, those she has helped, have all banded together to keep her protected. Made something of a mismatched, strange family really. Penelope Yaxley just named their newest daughter after her even. Said that if it wasn't for Hermione she wouldn't have a husband or a new daughter."

Antonin signaled to the bartender that he needed another drink. The man had grown familiar with the bearded foreigner in the two months he had been coming in whenever he returned from a trip. He didn't waste time before another drink was sitting in front of his newest, best customer.

"What have you been doing in San Francisco?" Rodolphus asked.

His curiosity as a human paralleled his curiosity as a canine. Antonin snorted into his glass at the mental image of a human Rodolphus crawling around sniffing his surroundings. When he could trust himself to not laugh in the man's face, he gave him basic answers to his question. Cursebreaker. Gringotts. South America mostly. Occasional jaunts through the Caribbean.

"Fascinating! Any special witch in your life?"

Antonin spun his head around with a little too much enthusiasm to glare at his old friend. What a ridiculous question to ask!

"You know there's only one I'll ever be interested in."

"Good," Rodolphus replied. "Because she's the main reason why I'm here."

He hated that his first instinct was to jump to the conclusion that something was wrong with Hermione. Thorfinn used to joke about her always finding herself in serious trouble, but he wasn't exactly wrong. Antonin ran through all possible scenarios of what might be wrong with his witch… _er_ , his _ex_ -witch before Rodolphus took pity on him and put him out of his misery.

"Hermione is as right as can be expected. When it was all over, she and I took a trip to Australia. Unfortunately, we were unable to reverse the memory charm she placed on her parents. They are still living in Brisbane blissfully ignorant of their remarkable daughter."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Hermione must have been crushed."

"Yes, well, she has had a rather rough time of it the past year or so."

Rodolphus placed another official parchment in front of Antonin. He actually laughed loud enough to startle the other bar patrons when he read the official request for betrothal between Thorfinn of the Rowle family to Hermione of the Lestrange family. As Head of her family, Rodolphus was expected to approve all betrothal requests.

"Can't say that I'm surprised. He always promised he'd be there to pick up the pieces of her broken heart when I finally left."

"He waited a respectable time before approaching her. He allowed her to grieve."

"Wonderful for him. This calls for a toast."

He waved the bartender back over to them. Moments later they each had a glass of the establishment's finest fire whiskey in their hands. Antonin held his up to make a boisterous toast.

"To the woman I love and her disappointing fiancé. May they grow old together with their dozens of massive, blonde haired children."

Antonin knocked back the entire glass in one swallow. He wasn't sure how much he'd had to drink that day. Likely not enough considering the news he'd just received.

"There's still time to stop this if you wanted to, Antonin."

"She deserves better than me. She also deserves a hell of a lot better than Rowle but it's her decision."

He climbed off of the barstool, his legs a bit unsteady. Alcohol and loneliness had changed certain aspects of his personality for the worse. He laughed in his old friend's horrified face.

"Now I must say 'fuck you with the broomstick you rode in on'."

The bartender and the other patrons laughed at the mangled colloquialism.

"Tony, buddy, it's 'Fuck you and the horse you rode in on'," he corrected.

"That doesn't make any sense," Antonin argued. "Why would I want to fuck a horse?"

"It's a No-maj saying. Most of them don't make any sense."

Antonin clapped Rodolphus on his back.

"Lovely to see you again, mate."

He threw a couple of galleons in the direction of the bartender and exited. One more moment with his witch's adoptive father and he might do something truly unconscionable. Like try to win her back. She deserved better than that.

* * *

July 14, 2006

He couldn't believe he was back in Diagon Alley in the heat of the summer. Every single step he took down the once familiar street brought back a plethora of memories better left undisturbed. He hadn't been back to his home country in over six years. Giving up the safety of his life in California even for a few days was unnerving. He couldn't remember the last time he was so unsure about his chosen actions.

Antonin pulled a well-read invitation out of his robes pocket. In the four weeks since he received the parchment from a large international owl, he must have read and reread it a thousand times. He would make the decision to come with one read and then the next he would crumple it up and swear he would never return.

 _Mr. Rhys and Miss Madeline Collins_

 _request the honor of your presence_

 _at the marriage of their mother_

 _Elizabeth Cathleen Fletcher Collins_

 _to Mr. Rodolphus Rosier Lestrange_

The remainder of the invitation provided the date and time of the wedding ceremony the next day at the Lestrange Manor. A handwritten note scrawled on the bottom of the invitation personally from Rodolphus begged him to attend the private family dinner the night before. He was truly happy for his friend. If there was ever a man who deserved a second chance at life, it was the unfortunate soul once forced to share a bed with Bellatrix Black.

He just wished it was possible to celebrate his friend's nuptials without actually having to be there. Somehow a nice card and a new teapot didn't seem enough for the wizard who had done so much for him years earlier. In the end it was his goblin boss' decision that he take some time off that encouraged him to finally request an international portkey. As much as Antonin might like to, he couldn't spend the rest of his life ignoring the people who cared about him simply out of fear that he would run into _her_.

His feet carried him in front of the familiar Flourish and Blotts. Thoughts of the hours he used to spend in there scanning new titles and devouring books when he was younger brought a smile to his face. He wondered if there had been any changes to the store in his absence. Stepping across the threshold of the beloved store felt almost as if he were in a time warp. He could almost imagine that he was eleven years old picking out his first Hogwarts books again.

In only a matter of minutes he was completely sucked in to the mysteries of the haphazardly stacked shelves. He wandered over to the potions section and immediately found a volume he had been searching for. When he pulled it out and began to scan the contents of the pages, he found his mind wandering to thoughts of Hermione. She always loved a new book. He grew nervous thinking about what it was going to be like to see her for the first time in six and a half years. Part of him couldn't believe that he had ever been so foolish as to allow that much time to pass. Once a year passed it wasn't hard to let another and then another and then another pass.

His thoughts were so focused on the witch of his dreams that he even began to convince himself that he was hearing her voice. Chuckling to himself at the inanity of the idea, Antonin set the potions manual aside to scan another.

"Maggie? Maggie, darling, where are you?"

Antonin dropped the book he was holding when the familiar voice grew louder. His great height meant that staring over the tall shelves was no difficulty. The voice began to grow louder and more frantic with each call for Maggie. It only took him a moment to see her standing in the magical cookbook section. Even though he was seeing the back of her head, he would've recognized her anywhere. He found he could hardly breathe. Suddenly the decision to come back to England seemed terrible. He still had time to sneak out of the shop and run away before she saw him.

When he rotated around to head for the front door, he almost tripped over a small child. A little girl with thick, curly blonde hair was staring up at him. Another shout of 'Maggie' caused the little girl he assumed to be around four to burst into tiny, obnoxiously adorable giggles. He raised a single eyebrow at the young girl.

"Maggie?" he asked.

She immediately started giggling and nodding her tiny head. Her unruly curls shook reminding him so much of the woman currently screaming the little girl's name. He struggled to catch a breath. How could a small child cause such a reaction? _Because, you fool, it's_ her _child!_ A large man picked up the little girl.

"What did I tell you about running away in the shops, poppet?"

Thorfinn was every bit as surprised to see Antonin as Antonin was to see their tiny family. While they had never been particularly close, even before Hermione got in between them, they used to be on somewhat friendly terms. Rowle seemed determined to return to the somewhat friendly terms. He extended his hand and Antonin shook.

"We weren't sure whether to expect you or not," Thorfinn said. "Hermione was hoping you would come."

"Who is that, daddy?" asked Maggie.

Before he had a chance to answer, Hermione interrupted. Her eyes were entirely focused on the little blonde girl in Thorfinn's arms. She was visibly relieved that Maggie had been found.

"Why must you always run from me?"

Hermione sighed, frustrated. Her eyes widened in shock the moment she saw Antonin standing just inches from her. She seemed unsure what to say, but the bright smile across her face was doing funny things to Antonin's nerves. He'd forgotten how beautiful she was when she smiled. Thorfinn walked away with Maggie to give them a few moments of privacy.

"Rod told me he invited you. I'm so pleased you're here."

"Are you?"

"Of course, Antonin."

She had both of her hands on her hips. How many times had she stood in front of him exactly like that when she was annoyed? Antonin didn't even try to hide his smile.

"I'm just surprised," she clarified. "Maggie had me worried. She thinks it's funny to run away from me when we are out. Bloody maddening."

"She's a beautiful little girl."

Hermione's entire face lit up in a large smile.

"I'm inclined to agree, but I suppose I'm just a teensy bit biased. She's just like Thorfinn. Looks like him, acts like him. It's no wonder she's already infuriating at four years old."

"There must be something of her mother in her."

Hermione seemed to ponder the statement for a moment before responding.

"I suppose her curly hair, but even that's blonde," she laughed.

Thorfinn walked back to them with Maggie still clasped firmly in his arms.

"Princess, it's almost three. Aren't you expected at Twilfitt and Tattings?"

"Oh, bugger, yes, the last robe fitting for tomorrow. I almost forgot. Thanks for reminding me."

She stretched up to kiss Thorfinn's cheek. After she dropped a short kiss on Maggie's cheek, she pointed her finger at the little terror and told her to be good. She turned to Antonin, flustered and obviously nervous. When her hand brushed his elbow, he almost jumped out of his skin. Her touch still had the same effect on him it always had.

"I really am so pleased you came, Antonin," she said. "I will see you later tonight. We must catch up."

They watched the petite witch disappear to the front of the store. Antonin turned back around to make his excuses. Thorfinn reached out to shake his hand again.

"I should be going. It was nice to see you again, Thorfinn. Miss Rowle, I would suggest you listen to your mummy and don't run away from her again."

His words made the little girl laugh again.

"My-my isn't my mummy."

Antonin's stomach lurched at the simple words.

"Daddy, what is My-My?"

"She's your godmother, poppet."

To say that Antonin was shocked by that news was a bit of an understatement. What could that possibly mean? Did she and Thorfinn not get married like they had planned years earlier?

"Oh, I just assumed."

"Charlotte and I got married," explained Thorfinn.

"My mummy's at home with my baby brother. He's too little for me to play with."

The adults both laughed at the adorable child. Suddenly realizing that she didn't belong to Hermione made the child a lot cuter.

"Everyone says that one day he'll be as big as Daddy, but I don't believe them."

Antonin excused himself from the Rowles. He was in need of a stiff drink before the evening's festivities. The Leaky Cauldron was calling his name.

* * *

Apparating to the gates of the Lestrange Estate was surreal. Antonin could close his eyes and almost imagine that no time had passed since the days he lived there with Rabastan and Hermione. Though their days in their seaside cottage had been infinitely better, he still had some fond memories of the time they lived in the manor. He had almost talked himself out of abandoning the country and going back to his refuge in San Francisco a hundred times since running into Hermione in the bookstore.

He was about to make the decision to disappear back to America again when he was spotted by tomorrow's groom. Rodolphus crossed the expansive front garden with a wide grin on his face. Antonin was trapped. He couldn't in good conscience slip away at that point.

"I hardly dared believe Hermione when she told me she saw you in London today," Rodolphus said as he extended his hand in greeting. "We've been placing bets on if you would actually show up or not."

"Yes, well, it seemed rude to not come."

Rodolphus laughed loudly at the man's explanation. Years seemed to have fallen off of the animagus since they last saw each other in the dingy pub near the bank. Happiness suited the wizard.

"As if fearing being considered rude was ever a deterrent for you, Antonin."

Rodolphus led him into the manor. Antonin continued to feel as if he was travelling back to the past. So much had happened within the walls of that home. There was an attractive witch with light brown hair standing just within the entrance hall speaking quietly to a boy around twelve.

"Quit pulling at your collar, Rhys!" she ordered.

Antonin cracked a small smile at the admonishment. The boy was obviously uncomfortable in his starched dress robes. _Poor kid_. When they entered, the woman lit up at the sight of Rodolphus. He was equally as smitten with the woman if the expression on his face was any indication.

"Lizzie, darling, this is Antonin Dolohov."

Elizabeth Collins, soon-to-be Lestrange, smiled warmly at the new arrival. It was apparent that she recognized his name. She crossed the marble floor in moments to shake his extended hand.

"It is lovely to meet you, Mr. Dolohov," she said. "This is my son Rhys."

He shook the reluctant hand of the uncomfortable boy.

"Rhys just finished his first year at Hogwarts," Rodolphus announced. "He's a fellow Ravenclaw, Antonin. Rhys, Antonin is a cursebreaker for Gringotts in the Americas."

Rhys Collins' face lit up at the introduction. He started to rattle off a dozen different questions about what kind of classes he had to take and where his favorite place to travel was and if the goblins were really all that terrifying before his mother had to threaten him with a silencing spell.

"Rhys darling, I'm sure there will be plenty of time for you to ask Mr. Dolohov questions later," Elizabeth said. " _One_ at a time, of course."

"Absolutely, Rhys," Antonin answered. "I just got back from Peru a week ago. Fascinating case complete with a few cursed Incan mummies."

Antonin immediately became the hero of the young Ravenclaw boy. It was only his mother's request that he go find his little sister that prevented him from inundating Antonin with a dozen more questions. Antonin didn't mind. He could appreciate a curious mind.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Dolohov," Elizabeth apologized. "He is very inquisitive."

"Antonin, please," he replied. "It's all right. I will make certain I answer some of his questions later. I do have a rather enthralling job after all."

"Thank you, Antonin. That will make his night, I'm positive."

Elizabeth gently grasped Antonin's arm to lead him down the corridor towards the study. Rodolphus remained behind at the entrance to wait for the remaining guests.

"It will be just a small party tonight," Elizabeth explained. "Just the 'Harem' and their families, I'm afraid."

He snorted before he could stop himself.

"The 'harem'?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and laughed.

"We can't get Theo to call the group anything else. We've just gotten used to it. The Malfoys were invited, but poor Reina is so close to her delivery date that she wanted to save all of her energy for the wedding tomorrow."

He wasn't disappointed that he was going to miss seeing Lucius that night. Reina was a different story. He had always liked her and would make a point to speak with her at the wedding the next evening.

"We are starting off with some drinks in the study before dinner. Theo, Ophelia and the girls are already here. Hermione was in there earlier, but she's been running around the manor for the past week worrying about the tiniest details about the wedding tomorrow. I've no clue where she's at right now."

"That certainly sounds like her," he agreed with a laugh.

Antonin was pleased to see that the study where he spent so many hours with Rabastan had been remodeled since the last time he was forced to endure his company. The room once was filled with dark, oppressive woods. He felt at ease immediately with the warm colors.

"Antonin!"

He was almost tackled by an exuberant Theo the second he stepped in the room. The young wizard had grown a bit broader in the six years since they'd last seen each other and if Antonin learned he'd gained a few inches in height he wouldn't have been surprised. He had felt a tremendous amount of guilt for essentially abandoning Young Nott when he'd run off from Hermione. Seeing the once sullen boy older with a warm smile on his face was encouraging.

"Thorfinn owes me five galleons. He said that you wouldn't show," Theo said. "Come over and meet my family."

A very pretty young woman with dark brown hair stood up from an armchair near the fireplace. She was holding a little girl on her hip with the same unruly curls that he'd seen earlier on Thorfinn's daughter except hers were as dark as her mother's. Another girl about six or seven years old stood next to Theo.

"This is my wife Ophelia," he introduced, obviously quite proud of the women in his life. "And these are our daughters, little Lucy is two and Alison is six."

"Pleasure to meet you all, ladies. Theo, you have a beautiful family."

He put his arm around the little girl that he knew to actually be his half-sister. Antonin wondered how that conversation would go in the future and hoped that there wouldn't be too much pain when the truth came out. Ophelia was very similar in appearance to her elder sister Charlotte, but that was where Antonin discovered the similarities ended. She was quiet and a bit shy.

"Can I get you a drink, Antonin?" Theo asked.

The three adults managed to pass several minutes of polite conversation before they were joined by Thorfinn's family. Once again he was able to tell the difference in the two sisters' families. Where the Nott family was quiet and well-behaved, the Rowles were loud and boisterous. Maggie was running towards her cousins the moment her feet were placed on the ground and her little brother began crying moments later. Charlotte was quick to apologize with an excuse about teething that Antonin neither understood nor cared about. They were fortunate that the loud screams from the tiny baby brought the instant arrival of Rosie.

"Rosie will take care of fussy Master," she offered, instantly calming the child once he was in her tiny arms.

All of the adults in the room breathed a sigh of relief at the sudden stillness, none more so than Charlotte. Antonin felt a small presence appear next to his side.

"Rosie is amazing with the babies," Hermione said quietly. "She loves when we're all here at the manor."

Before he could say anything to the woman standing next to him, Rodolphus entered the room to announce dinner was ready. The group made their way across the corridor to the formal dining room. Antonin was feeling out of place and out of sorts. Everyone else was so comfortable with each other that he wasn't exactly sure where he fit in. Elizabeth directed him to the open seat to Hermione's left, a fact that left him nervous.

"She's rather subtle, isn't she?" whispered Hermione.

"Extremely."

He caught her eye when she started to laugh. It was a sound he dreamed of often and one he didn't expect to hear again. Unfortunately the smile that crossed his face went unnoticed by no one at the table. The sisters seated across from them exchanged sly smirks.

"Antonin, how long will you be staying in the country?" asked Charlotte.

He felt extremely ill at ease when every eye in the room turned towards his direction.

"I'm not sure," he answered. "I was all but forced to take some time off from work. The American goblins don't trust a wizard who doesn't take time off. Something about a group of embezzlers many years ago. No doubt they are taking my absence as an opportunity to audit my work without my knowledge."

"Where are you staying?" Ophelia inquired.

Antonin wondered if there wasn't some kind of conspiracy amongst the witches in the room with their lines of questioning.

"I haven't decided yet," he answered. "I just arrived this afternoon."

"Oh, it's a shame that we are in the midst of remodeling all of the guest rooms," declared Elizabeth. "You would've been welcome to stay here."

"We have an extra bedroom in the…" began Theo.

"No, darling, remember that bed is just awful?" interrupted Ophelia. "I had the elves throw it out last week. We are still waiting for the replacement."

Theo was visibly confused. Antonin's suspicious nature was piqued.

"And it's a shame that so many have come in for the wedding tomorrow," added Charlotte. "We tried to find a room at the Leaky for Thor's cousin and they are _completely_ booked."

"Same with the Three Broomsticks," announced Elizabeth. "I'm afraid our relatives have booked all of the rooms."

"Perhaps I can find a Muggle hotel…"

"Hermione, dear, weren't you just offering your guest room for any last minute wedding guests?" asked Elizabeth.

The clang of Hermione's fork hitting her plate rang through the suddenly silent dining room. All at once it was clear what the conspiracy amongst the women was all about. Hermione's cheeks flushed bright red with the attention. Ignoring everyone else at the table, she turned towards him to speak quietly.

"You are welcome to stay with me, Antonin. There's plenty of space."

He couldn't decline the offer with so many eager faces around the table waiting for him to accept.

"Thank you, Hermione."

The rest of the meal passed in constant, but rather entertaining conversation. Most of the guests assembled around the table seemed to be extra interested in what he had been up to in America. A number of questions were sent to his section of the table. More than once Hermione came to his rescue to change the subject of conversation to give him a break from speaking. He found her behavior to be painfully adorable.

As hard as he tried, he couldn't keep his eyes off of the young woman seated next to him. One moment it felt as if no time at all had passed, the next it felt like more years than just six had gone by. She was, if possible, even more beautiful than he remembered. In his lonely, drunken stupors he usually fantasized about an angel with lavender scented curls. Being so close to her reminded him every second that he made the biggest mistake of his entire life walking away that chilly Christmas morning.

It was too late to try to make up for his past wrongs. Too much time had gone by. Neither of them were the same, broken people who used to cling to each other in the dead of the night. He was an even older fool than he used to be with a moderate drinking problem. What could he possibly offer a vibrant young woman with the best years of her life still ahead of her besides another broken heart?

"I cannot believe they cornered us like that," Hermione whispered to him when they were rising from their chairs at the end of the meal. "I am so embarrassed. You don't have to stay with me if you don't want to."

"I can find a hotel room somewhere if you aren't comfortable with me in your home, Hermione."

"No, it's not that, Antonin. I just don't want you to feel obligated because three nosy busybodies pushed you into it."

She was growing flustered and beginning to babble. There was a time when all he had to do was cover her lips with his to make her stop. He wondered what would happen if he tried it again. She would probably slap him and Rodolphus would throw him out of the house.

"Of course it's not exactly as if I can tell you that you can't stay with me," she babbled. "It still belongs to you after all."

His gut lurched for yet another time that day. What exactly was she admitting to?

"I still live in the cottage. Couldn't bear to leave it actually even after… Well, Greg helped me fix the damages from the Death Eater attack and Theo's tunnel. I've made a few changes over the years. Enlarged the kitchen. Added some more rooms upstairs. That's why it's no problem at all for you to stay with me…"

Antonin couldn't stand her nerves any longer. He placed both of his hands on her slim shoulders. The contact surprised her enough to stop her incessant chatter. She looked up at him with unshed tears filling her beautiful brown eyes. He couldn't resist smiling. She really had no idea how delectable she still was.

"I would be interested in seeing the changes you've made," he admitted.

"I hope you don't mind the liberties I took with it."

"It was always intended to be your home as much as mine."

Remembering that they were still in a dining room filled with other people, Antonin dropped his hands from her shoulders. He instantly regretted the loss of contact. He started to move towards the door to the hallway when he realized they were alone in the room. Hermione groaned.

"I'm sure the ladies all banded together to pull their husbands out of the room to give us some privacy," she said, unable to meet his amused stare. "Liz is wonderful, but she is tenacious. She's even worse when you get her together with Reina."

"They obviously care about you."

"Bloody Hufflepuffs."

She headed towards the door. Antonin followed her by instinct as if he were a lost dog.

"We should join the others before we find out they're planning _our_ wedding."

The flippant remark made his stomach flutter. Once upon a time he would've loved nothing more than to bind himself to this remarkable woman. Had his feelings changed during his long, self-imposed exile? By the time they reached the study where the other guests were congregated, he'd decided that yes, it was what he still wanted. Not that it mattered. He'd buggered up his chance when he abandoned her at Hogwarts. He would not blame her if she was never able to forgive him for his actions.

"Would you care for a glass?" Rodolphus asked the moment they entered the study.

Antonin tried to ignore all of the knowing looks passed around by the women. The men were either completely oblivious or making an effort to appear so. He had to stifle a laugh when he realized the only available seats were on the tiny loveseat near the fireplace. Rowena save him from manipulative women. Elizabeth rose from her chair to skillfully lead them both to the open seats. Hermione's cheeks flushed an attractive pink at the blatant maneuver. Antonin hid his smirk behind the glass Rodolphus pushed into his hand.

They were seated so close together that their legs brushed up against each other. Every time she fidgeted in place, which he was amused to find was quite often, shocks of sensation shot up his leg straight to his groin. He had been too long without a woman. Six years, six months and twenty days if one wanted to be specific. Not since that night before the final showdown with the Dark Lord in Lucius' guestroom. There had been opportunities, of course, since then. He was still an attractive man even if had to say so himself. A couple of women almost found themselves in his bed, but each time he couldn't rise to the occasion. He told himself it was likely the copious amounts of alcohol he drank, but he knew the truth. The problem was he was with the wrong woman.

"We hate to leave so early, but little Hallie is just not feeling very well," Charlotte announced to the room when she'd returned from checking on her children in the manor's nursery. "Rosie, poor thing, cannot get him to stop crying."

"That's all right," Rodolphus said, kissing Charlotte on the cheek. "I hope he's all right for tomorrow."

Theo and his wife stood up from their seats at the same time.

"Afraid we must be going too, Rod," Theo declared.

Antonin spent the next few minutes shaking hands and kissing cheeks of the departing. He and Hermione were left alone while the host and hostess showed their guests to the front door. They sat in silence sipping at their glasses of whiskey for a few awkward minutes.

"So are you still working for Gringotts?" Hermione asked, searching for something to say.

He cleared his throat before answering.

"Yes, I've been working with them for a little over five years now."

"Be careful around, Rhys. He's obsessed with cursebreakers," she teased. "Bill Weasley visited Hogwarts last year and he hasn't stopped talking about them ever since."

"I've already promised to answer any questions he has."

She laughed causing his heart to jump and his trousers to tighten slightly. He'd forgotten how much he loved that sound.

"Be careful what you promise, Antonin. He asks more questions than _I_ do, if you can believe it."

"You know, I don't think I believe that's possible," he joked.

She playfully slapped his chest at the remark. He grabbed her hand in his as a force of habit. They sat there for several seconds staring at each other without speaking. She finally broke the eye contact and ripped her hand out of his grasp.

"I thought Maggie was your daughter," he said, his voice low.

Hermione's head turned quickly to meet his eyes again. Her brown eyes were wide at his confession.

"The last time I saw Rodolphus he showed me the betrothal request from Thorfinn," he explained.

"That sneaky old dog," she chuckled and rolled her eyes. "I knew that he wasn't going to America just to deliver your pardon in person. Did he try to convince you to come back?"

"He thought that I might be able to change your mind."

"Yeah, well, at that point in my life, Antonin, you wouldn't have been able to change my mind about changing the kind of toothpaste I used, let alone who I should spend my life with."

Her words had a touch of heat behind them, but she tempered them with a smile. He assumed she was trying to tell him that she was no longer as angry with him as she once was.

"Why did you and Thorfinn not get married?"

She rose abruptly from the chair. Before she stalked off towards the bar in the corner of the room, she plucked his almost empty glass out of his hand.

"I'm going to need a _lot_ more alcohol to answer that question."

Their solitude was interrupted by Rodolphus, Elizabeth and her children before she could imbibe enough alcohol to lower her inhibitions enough to tell the story he desperately wanted to hear. Did she not marry Thorfinn because she discovered that she was still in love with him? Did Thorfinn refuse to marry her because he knew that her heart still belonged to another man? There were a number of possibilities that unfortunately, would have to wait.

Rhys immediately crossed the study to sit in Hermione's vacated seat. Antonin caught Hermione's eye from the area of the bar. She was smiling as she filled up their glasses. He was already answering his third or fourth question of what Peru was like before she handed the glass back. She moved to the other side of the room to sit next to Elizabeth. Even despite being busy answering questions from the inquisitive boy, he found his eyes frequently travelled across the space to where she was speaking in animated tones with her future sort-of stepmother. Rodolphus happily watched the two women speaking with a goofy grin on his face that proved he was completely besotted with them both.

It seemed that everyone's lives had improved since he left Britain. Or at least that's what his pessimistic mind whispered. He learned over dinner that Hermione was in the midst of a series of debates regarding new werewolf laws being considered in the Wizengamot. She was animated in her explanations of what the new laws could mean for the poor lycanthropes left behind at the end of the last war. Only rarely had he seen her exhibit such passion. Even if her engagement with Thorfinn had obviously fallen through (which he was certainly not displeased to find out) she still seemed to be happy with her new family. She doted on little Maddie who appeared to love Rodolphus every bit as much as he loved the little eight or nine year old.

All he had to show for six years of exile was a cold, empty flat in San Francisco that he hated and a vault steadily filling with gold he only seemed to spend on alcohol. It was difficult not to be jealous of those he foolishly left behind.

"Rhys, darling, it is growing rather late and I'm sure Antonin has already answered every question you could possibly imagine," Elizabeth said once the clock on the mantle began to chime ten o'clock. "We have a busy day tomorrow with an early morning."

Maddie was already asleep with her head lying up against Rodolphus. He deftly pulled the small girl into his arms to carry her up to her bedroom. With a nod to Antonin and a promise to see him the next day, the master of the manor disappeared into the corridor. Rhys managed to get in a few more questions about what kind of trap hexes the Aztec wizards used in their temples before his mother had to pull him out the door. He found he could relate to the young Ravenclaw's enthusiasm for learning. The boy reminded him a great deal of himself at that age.

"I did warn you," laughed Hermione. "He's a dear boy. Rodolphus could not have picked a better family to marry into."

"They do seem to make him happy. I'm glad. He deserves some happiness after the horror that was Bellatrix."

They both shuddered at the memory of the awful woman. For the second time that night they came to the sudden realization that they were alone in a room together again causing an awkward silence. Sensing that she was nervous about the invitation she had made earlier in the evening, Antonin tried to put her mind at ease by offering to do the one thing he wanted to do least of all.

"I meant what I said earlier, Hermione. I can find a Muggle hotel room if you are not comfortable with me staying at the cottage."

"Don't be silly, Antonin. There's plenty of space. It's just Jake and me there."

His ears perked up at the masculine name. He hated that he was experiencing a surge of jealousy. Of course it wasn't unthinkable that she had someone in her life. Maybe he was simply unavailable to attend the dinner that night. He might have a job that made him work funny hours. Merlin knew Antonin had one of those.

"I should really get back to him," Hermione said. "If I leave him alone too long he starts to get destructive. Just last month he was so bored when I was stuck in a long session at the Ministry that I came home to find all of my throw pillows ripped into shreds with feathers coating every surface of the living room. Rod's promised to go visit him and play with him when I think I might be gone a long time."

Antonin relaxed just a bit when he realized she was _most likely_ speaking about some kind of animal and not a wizard with an odd schedule and a hatred for frilly, unnecessary cushions. She stood in front of him nervously adjusting the non-existent wrinkles in her skirt. It was amusing to find her so fidgety in his presence. He was reminded of a time years earlier when they were first together in that same manor when she behaved in the exact same manner. A stray thought crossed his mind causing him to chuckle out loud. Hermione's eyes shot towards him immediately.

"What?"

"Sorry, I was just thinking about that first night you woke up in the manor," he explained. "When you were so indignant and despite me sleeping on the sofa, you accused me of wanting you as a bedwarmer."

Her cheeks flushed red. It was encouraging to know that he still had that effect on the young woman despite their less than stellar history together.

"Yes, well, what was I supposed to think?" she asked, refusing to look him in the eye.

He hesitantly placed his hand under her chin to gently coax her eyes to look up into his. The touch was electric. He had to rein in all of his self-control to keep from pulling the young woman into his arms and against his body. Being that close to her and yet so far was absolute torture.

"Just like that first night, Hermione, you have no reason to fear me."

"I haven't been afraid of you for many years, Antonin. Tonight is no different."

She stared into his eyes for a moment longer before she broke the contact.

"It's late," she said, walking towards the door to the corridor. "We should get going. Tomorrow is going to be a very long day."

He followed her out into the corridor. The inhabitants of the house were still upstairs, but she seemed unwilling to wait for them to return to say her goodbyes. Antonin wondered if that was his fault. Was she that anxious to get away from his touch that she was practically running from him? They didn't exchange a single word until they were outside the gates of the estate.

"Do you think you need me to Side-Along you there?" she asked.

"I'm certain your wards would not let me through."

She reached out for his arm, tucked it into her side and Disapparated them away. They landed just before the front door. Antonin took a deep breath remembering the familiar smell of the ocean nearby. The garden was thriving, he was pleased to see. When he lived there he'd tried to clean up the neglected outdoors. Hermione had continued where he started. Everything else about the cottage was exactly as he remembered it.

Hermione didn't waste a moment dropping his arm when they arrived. He would've been saddened by the gesture if he hadn't been so thoroughly distracted by his surroundings. She pushed open the massive door to be immediately assaulted by one of the largest dogs Antonin had ever seen. Jake greeted his mistress before turning his attention to the new arrival. He bounced over towards Antonin with a familiarity he couldn't deny. The dog was another Saint Bernard and every bit as large as Rodolphus in his animagus form. He allowed the beast to sniff his hand before he rubbed his head.

"Rod didn't like me living alone," Hermione declared. "Jake was one of the last puppies that Argos ever sired."

Antonin's face twitched perceptibly at the announcement. What did she mean about Argos? Surely Rodolphus didn't impregnate some other dog while he was in his canine form? Was that even possible? He wasn't a real dog after all. His increasingly horrified thoughts were interrupted by Hermione's amused laughter.

"I wish I had a picture of your face just now," she giggled. "You looked so disturbed."

"Yes, well, you just sprung that on me. I wasn't aware that animagi could _sire_ offspring."

"Oh, dear, I forgot!" She began to laugh even harder, tears leaking out of the sides of her eyes. "You wouldn't have known if you only saw Rod that one time."

She entered the cottage, Antonin and Jake following close behind. He took a quick look around the room. Some of the furnishings were different, but it was notably the same room they used to spend hours together in. She continued walking towards the kitchen. Again, both of the males followed her close behind. Jake's tail was wagging at a ferocious speed when they entered the enlarged kitchen. Hermione flicked her wand in the direction of his bowl to fill it with food. The canine ignored everyone else to focus on his dinner.

"After we got back from Australia, Rod was feeling pretty down about not being able to help my parents. He took a long walk down to the village near the manor. When he entered the dog park, he saw Argos with the family he'd left him with. He, of course, knew about the little boy, but he wasn't aware that there was a little girl too. The two children were running through the park playing with Argos while their mother watched.

"Rod didn't mean to get as close to them as he did, but he caught the mother's attention. You might not be aware, but at that time we were all featured quite a bit in the newspapers. Several articles were actually written about him that made him out to be both a hero and a monster. It was very upsetting for him. Well, when the woman saw his face, she approached him. Said she thought that he seemed familiar when they used to run into him in the park. Even thought once that he looked like Rodolphus Lestrange, but couldn't believe that a notorious criminal would be so kind and friendly.

"It was Elizabeth. He didn't know it when he gave Argos to her son that she was actually a Muggleborn witch in hiding. Her first husband was a Muggle who died in a car accident right as the war began. She was able to hide a bit easier than the rest of the Muggleborns because she had so many connections in the Muggle world. Most of us cut them off at a young age. Anyway, it's a long story where Rod was an idiot multiple times. Thought he wasn't good enough for her. Too old for her. Was concerned what everyone else would say to her when they found out about him. Believed that she deserved better than an old ex-convict like him."

She refused to meet his eyes when she spoke the last words, but it was unnecessary. He knew she was also referring to the ridiculous excuses he used to give for why they couldn't be together.

"Reina and I spent a good almost two years doing what we could to bring them together. She invited Elizabeth to her wedding and _conveniently_ placed them next to each other at the same table. I used to force him on long walks when I knew she would be in the park. He finally gave in much to Liz's extreme pleasure. They are wonderful together and he absolutely adores her children. Our meddling also brought him back into contact with Argos. One of the conditions of Rod's pardon was that he register his animagus form, so it's common knowledge now. He used to love to play with Argos. When Argos passed away a couple of years ago, he was devastated."

Well, that certainly answered his questions from earlier as to where Rodolphus was able to meet the remarkable witch he was marrying. Antonin had liked her immediately and thought her son was charming as well. He hadn't spent much time around the daughter as she was either playing with the younger children or sitting with Rodolphus. It hadn't taken him long to tell that little Maddie had her future stepfather wrapped around her little finger. Antonin was happy for the man. His new family and Hermione were all wonderful.

"Greg and I added two more bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs," Hermione said, leading him towards the stairs in the living room. "I once hoped to turn this into a family home."

The sadness that crossed her face made Antonin ill at ease. He hated that there was so much in her life that made her sad, especially considering a great deal of it was entirely his fault. Hermione shook her head and plastered a false smile on her beautiful face.

"Only one is actually ready for guests. It's the first door you come to."

"What do you use the other rooms for?"

He wished he could pull the words back into his mouth the moment he said them. The sadness returned to her face.

"Nothing. They're empty. Have a good night, Antonin."

He watched her disappear back towards the old room they used to share. When the bedroom door shut, Antonin began the climb up the stairs. He still could not believe that he was back in his old cottage with the woman he still so desperately loved only feet away. She might as well have been continents away.


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter Forty Three

July 15, 2006

Antonin woke up only a few short hours after he was finally able to fall asleep. The guest bedroom in the cottage was all right as far as bedrooms went. There was only one glaring problem with it: it was the wrong bedroom. His thoughts kept wandering down the stairs, across the living room, through the kitchen and into the bedroom he hadn't stepped foot in since the morning Hermione was kidnapped by Cormac McLaggen. He wondered if she was having as much difficulty sleeping as he was.

Living in the heart of a big city for over five years meant that he found the stillness of the cottage a bit unnerving. He was used to hearing traffic at all hours of the night passing by on the street below his flat. His neighbors were not known for being quiet either. The sounds of the waves were soothing sounds that he had grown used to not hearing. It would likely take some time before he found the once-customary sounds comforting again. Longer than he was likely to be allowed to remain in the cottage, he thought bitterly.

A clock on the nightstand showed the time to be just after two. Knowing that he would not be falling asleep any time soon, Antonin threw the covers off. He pulled a robe over his bare chest. Ordinarily he wouldn't bother, but out of respect for his hostess he didn't want to make her uncomfortable if she was having trouble sleeping too.

Antonin was disappointed that he didn't see her on his way into the kitchen. He was hoping that she might be awake and they could run into each other. One thing might lead to another and then she would be shuddering around him, screaming his name and begging him to move back in. A man can dream anyway.

Years earlier when he was forced to play host to three wizards with nowhere else to go, he used to grow frustrated with Thorfinn always stealing his best fire whiskey. The younger wizard had a serious drinking problem in those days. Antonin knew the signs all too well. Remembering his witch's remarkable beaded bag with the undetectable extension charm, Antonin snuck into his kitchen when everyone else in the cottage was asleep one night to make some adjustments to one of the cabinets. He was pleased to find the same cabinet was still there. Pulling open the door, he carefully moved the empty bowls that were in the way without making a sound.

He'd warded the hidden compartment to his own magical signature. One touch of his hand on the back wall opened a small door. Antonin reached into the darkness and found an unopened bottle of Ogden's Finest twenty year aged fire whiskey. The glasses were still in the same cabinet they were years earlier. He took his hidden treasure with him through the front door. A short walk around the back of the cottage put him in the perfect spot to view the ocean.

Years earlier he used to slip out of the cottage to spend hours simply staring off into the distance at the crashing waves. He set the bottle and the glass on top of the short stone wall that circled the perimeter of the property. Two glasses were filled and emptied before he heard a rustle in the grass behind him. Antonin's first instinct was to spin around at top speed and curse whatever was making the noise. His hand was halfway to his wand when the intoxicating scent of lavender reached his nose.

"I love to come out here when I can't sleep to watch the ocean," Hermione said, her voice a whisper that still managed to carry to his waiting ears.

Antonin slowly turned around to face the woman. She was wrapped in a robe, barefoot in the grass. Her hair was wild either from a few hours of deep sleep or a few hours of tossing and turning. He was fairly certain it was the latter. With each step she took closer to him, he found breathing to be more and more difficult. She was so beautiful standing in the moonlight that he was half-convinced he was dead and in paradise.

"It's peaceful," he agreed. "I'd almost forgotten how much so."

"Where on Earth did you find that?" she asked, laughing at the bottle still sitting on the fence.

"A wizard cannot reveal all of his secrets, _daragaya_."

A brief awkward silence fell between them after the term of endearment fell from his lips. Antonin cleared his throat. Hermione moved to sit in one of the chairs only a few feet away. When he felt confident that the uncomfortable moment was passed, he picked up both the bottle and glass to sit in the chair next to hers. Hermione summoned an empty glass from inside the cottage. He didn't waste any time filling her glass up with the magical liquid he knew often loosened her tongue. If it also had the added benefit of lowering her inhibitions, well, he wasn't going to worry about that just yet.

"There is a hidden compartment behind the bowls in the kitchen," he explained. "I created it when Thorfinn kept stealing all of my best whiskey."

Her soft laughter made his entire body erupt into goosebumps. He had already heard the incredible sound multiple times in the less than twenty four hours he'd been back in the country, but he was certain that the more he heard it, the better it sounded. How could he possibly have forgotten that melodic sound in his exile?

"I should've known you had your own hidden stash," she replied, a bright smile still on her face. "Are there any others in the cottage I should know about?"

"No, that's the only one. I considered putting one in the cellar near the potions station for volatile ingredients. I used to think that would be necessary if there were ever any children in the house."

His admission caused Hermione to drop her eyes immediately to the glass in her hands. She swallowed a couple of large drinks of the whiskey before speaking.

"There is a locked room in the cellar that Greg and I put in when we were redoing the cottage. It is warded so it can only be opened by three people: you, me and Rod in case anything happened to both of us. Everything you left behind is in there. I didn't get rid of anything."

"Thank you. That was very kind of you."

She snorted into her glass.

"Don't think too kindly of me until you see what's down there. I'm not ashamed to admit in the middle of some of my worst fits of temper, I may have broken a few things."

He chuckled at her admission. Part of him assumed that once it was clear he was not coming back that the young woman would've burnt or destroyed all of his possessions. He was pleased that she hadn't. There had been quite a few items that belonged to his parents that meant a great deal to him.

"Still, it was thoughtful of you to keep them."

"That was something Thorfinn never understood," she admitted. "Some of the largest rows we ever had were about this cottage and its contents. That's why the door can only be opened by the three of us. I suspected that if given half a chance, he would've destroyed everything. I even have special enchantments on the cottage to make it essentially fireproof. He has a nasty history of burning down houses."

There was a touch of bitterness in her tone that she was unable to hide. Antonin knew there was a great deal more to the story, but he didn't want to push her. Too much might scare her off.

"More than once he threatened to burn the cottage to the ground," she continued, surprising her guest with her candor. "He wanted us to move out of the cottage and find a home that was specifically ours. Something 'untainted with the ghosts of your past' I believe he said. He can be fairly poetic when he wants to be."

She picked the bottle of whiskey off of the table it was rested on. Once her glass was filled almost to the brim, she topped off Antonin's. Maybe this was going to be the moment she spoke of earlier in the evening. Maybe she was trying to imbibe enough alcohol to answer his question of why she never married. Antonin happily gulped down more. It was settling into his stomach with a pleasing warmth.

"Maybe it wasn't the healthiest decision to remain here considering the history, but I love this cottage. Nowhere else feels like home to me anymore. I tried to compromise with Thorfinn. That's why Greg and I redid the kitchen. That's why we added rooms upstairs. Thorfinn repeatedly said that this house wasn't large enough to raise a family in. I tried to make it large enough, but it didn't help."

"Hermione, you don't have to tell me all of this."

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. A hint of the fire he remembered was present in her watery eyes.

"I _want_ to tell you, Antonin."

She finished off her second glass of whiskey and immediately poured a third. Antonin thought that maybe in the past six years he wasn't the only who had picked up a nasty drinking habit. Maybe she had been drowning her sorrows every bit as often as he had.

"Thorfinn and I were a ridiculous idea. It was so obvious once I could step back from the relationship and view it without a cloud of intense emotions. We make wonderful friends. Even today, despite all of our problems in the past and our failed engagement, I would absolutely consider him my best friend. It's taken us years to get back to this point, but I can't imagine my life without him in it. Nor can I imagine not having Charlotte as a friend which most people would find absolutely bizarre."

Antonin couldn't help but agree with her statement. He had heard of the mystical friendships that could continue once the participants ended a romantic relationship although he had certainly never seen one. He had all but given them up as being false legends with little basis in reality. Hermione took a deep breath before continuing.

"After you left, I was broken. I don't know, maybe I still am in some ways. It wasn't all your fault, either. My parents were pretty upsetting to me and I had a number of _friends_ who wanted nothing to do with me. Neville told me that he would never speak to me again after he learned about my adoption. So far he's been able to keep his promise. It was a really shit time. One night Thorfinn and I had too much to drink and well, you can imagine."

"Yes, I'm afraid I can."

"It was stupid. We tried to make it work because neither one of us wanted to admit the truth to ourselves."

"What truth?"

She knocked back the rest of her glass. Yes, Antonin was more than a little convinced that in his absence his former witch had become well acquainted with the temptation of fire whiskey. He couldn't blame her for the habit. Hadn't he spent the past six and a half years trying to forget her by crawling to the bottom of bottles? When her glass was empty she stared him straight in the face.

"The truth was that despite the fact that Thorfinn and I loved each other very much, we were still _in_ love with other people."

"I'm sorry that I was responsible for causing you so much pain even after you tried to move on."

She actually laughed out loud at his last statement. Antonin tried not to be offended, but he couldn't help it. Why was so being so flippant about something that was obviously painful?

"Don't flatter yourself, Antonin. I was perfectly capable of fucking up my own relationship without your help."

Hermione reached across the small side table to pat his left forearm gently. A quick wink from the young woman helped temper his injured pride.

"When did you and Thorfinn finally decide it wasn't going to work?"

"We tried to make it work for a long time. Too long. We used to have these arguments that would last for days. Forget never going to bed angry. We were _always_ miserable. He began to blame this cottage. Said that I wasn't letting you go and moving on with my life. He used to accuse me of not actually wanting to marry him. If it had been up to him, we would've run off and gotten married immediately after we got engaged, but I was the holdout. I was the one who refused to set a date.

"So I hired Greg to remodel the cottage and I started planning a fancy, high society, Pureblood wedding. The rows didn't end, of course. They just became disagreements about where we were going to honeymoon or if we would have a buffet or a sit-down meal at the reception. Which kind of binding vows we were going to use. Would we have a traditional cake or not. Ridiculous rows.

"Then one day he came home with a sick expression on his face. Said that he needed to talk to me about something very serious. I assumed he was about to break off the engagement and a giant part of me felt nothing but relief. When he told me that he not only had cheated on me with Charlotte but that she was pregnant, I actually burst out laughing. No doubt he thought I was going round the bend. He told me that he wanted to do right by Charlotte. They still loved each other and wanted to get married."

She refilled her glass and took a sip.

"And do you know what I said to him when he asked to break off our engagement so he could marry Charlotte?"

He could only imagine. It must have been a devastating moment.

"I laughed and said, 'Thank god!'. He was a little insulted by my response, but it wasn't as if he wasn't relieved as well. It's not been an easy road. Charlotte and I have had our problems, but now, I think we're all okay. She knows that I will always love Thorfinn and is accepting. I want nothing but happiness for them both. I'm certain she had issues when he wanted to name me as Maggie's godmother. That could not have been an easy conversation."

"No, I imagine not."

"And now they have little Hallie too," she continued. "He's named after Thorfinn's grandfather. His name is actually Haldor."

She pulled a face that made Antonin almost choke on his fire whiskey. It was apparent that Hermione did not approve of the baby's name.

"It is _unique_ ," he agreed.

"It's bloody awful!"

They both laughed. It felt all at once surreal and wonderful to be laughing with the remarkable woman once more. Antonin didn't want the night to end. He was afraid in the clear morning hours she might change her mind about how to behave around him again. She might be afraid of him once more.

"Maggie's name is worse, if you can believe it. She's named after his great-grandmother who Thorfinn apparently adored. _Magnhild_."

He _did_ manage to choke on his fire whiskey at that pronouncement. Both of them chortled until they were red in the face and gasping for air. When he could finally take a full breath without chuckling again, he put a grave expression on his face and turned to face Hermione.

"It seems to me that you dodged an _Avada_. Your children could have bloody awful names."

"Oh, I know! And did you know that Maggie was almost _eleven_ pounds when she was born? Holy fuck! I didn't know babies could get that big. I don't even want to imagine what that must have felt like."

She shuddered at the thought. Antonin smirked at the action. He wondered if she knew how adorable she could be when she wasn't even trying. His eyes travelled down to where her robe was no longer covering the creamy skin on one of her thighs. Even in the darkness he could see how gorgeous her legs still were. Briefly he fantasized about kneeling in front of her and biting the inside of that exposed thigh. Thinking about the delicious noises he knew she would make caused parts of his body to stir. He was certain his flushed cheeks would give away what he was thinking. Against his wishes, he forced his eyes away from her bare leg.

"I really am glad that you came, Antonin."

"Thank you, Hermione. I'm glad I came too."

"I imagine you talked yourself out of coming a thousand times."

"At least that many."

Their eyes met and they both smiled. He was feeling his self-control begin to slip. It could have been the alcohol or the intoxicating scent of her hair or just the fact that he never could think straight in her presence. Antonin reached across the space between them to tuck an errant curl behind her ear. Hermione closed her eyes and leaned her cheek into his hand. A single tear dropped out from underneath her eyelid to splash onto his palm. He used his thumb to wipe another away.

"I have missed you so much," she whispered.

"I have missed you too, _daragaya_. So very much."

Hermione stood up abruptly from the chair.

"Then why did you stay away so long?"

Her tone wasn't angry, more intensely pained. She rushed towards the door leading straight into her bedroom before he could even answer the question. Part of him longed to follow her, but even if it had been over six years since he was last alone in her presence, he knew that she didn't want him to at that moment. Antonin remained in the chair staring at the ocean for at least another hour before he finally dragged himself back to bed.

The sun shining straight onto his face the next morning finally woke Antonin up. It had been years since he had lived in a bedroom that didn't have the heaviest blackout curtains available. Usually he had no idea what time of day it actually was until he cast a Tempus spell. Waking up with sun shining on his face was disconcerting. Remembering _where_ he was waking up was even more so.

He took his time taking a long, hot shower in the guest bathroom. Memories of the end of his drunken conversation with Hermione kept coming back at intervals to make his stomach clench. How was she going to receive him when he finally walked downstairs? Would she ask him to find somewhere else to stay for the duration of his visit? Or would she pretend that nothing untoward happened at all? Maybe she wouldn't even remember how she cried when his hand cupped her cheek. She had been knocking the fire whiskey back in disturbing amounts.

When he could delay his descent down to the ground floor of the cottage no longer, he hesitantly took each step at a time. The cottage was surprisingly devoid of any sounds. Maybe Hermione hadn't even gotten out of bed yet. It wasn't quite noon yet. Remembering that the wedding of her adoptive father was going to begin that evening at six, he decided it was more likely that she was already at the manor helping with last minute preparations. A cheerful note sitting underneath the teapot in the kitchen confirmed his suspicions.

 _Antonin –_

 _I've gone ahead to the manor to help with the wedding. Please help yourself to anything you find in the cupboards. Don't worry! I didn't cook any of the meals. Rosie makes certain that I have plenty of prepared meals each week. You won't die of poisoning!_

 _I will see you at the wedding. Save me a dance!_

 _Hermione_

There was a false cheeriness to the note that set his teeth on edge. Ignoring his concerns about what she was feeling after the previous night, he began searching for the cupboard full of food. When his stomach was adequately filled and his mild hangover temporarily sated, Antonin's curiosity got the better of him. He knew he shouldn't have been so bold, but he couldn't help it. She _did_ leave him alone in the cottage after all. The door that led to their old bedroom loomed ahead of him. Each step he made closer to the former sanctuary made his heart beat just a little faster. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to find when he crossed into the space.

Everything looked exactly as he remembered it. Even the bedding appeared to be what they once used. He ran his hands over the comforter to test his theory. Sure enough it even felt the same. The curtains were the same. The furniture was all still in the same place. It even smelled exactly the same. He could close his eyes and almost imagine that no time had passed at all. How could she live in the same room after all of these years without making any changes?

He hated himself immediately for intruding on her privacy. It was none of his business. She had made enough changes to the rest of the house they once shared that the bedroom didn't make any difference. He knew from his own flat in San Francisco that he rarely spent any time in his bedroom beyond the hours he spent sleeping in it. Maybe she simply didn't think it important to change if she was only ever in there to sleep.

Antonin left the bedroom soon after entering. Remembering what she had told him the night before about the locked room in the cellar, he directed his steps to the lower region of the house. The cellar was filled with more books than he had ever had. The potions station was still in the same place, but it wasn't as organized or clean as it was when he was living there. Perhaps she didn't brew very often. In fact, he could only remember her ever brewing two potions while they lived together: contraceptive potion and polyjuice potion. Perhaps she had had no use for either one in quite some time.

The locked door was easy to pry open. He was able to simply use an alohomora spell and it opened immediately. The room was larger than he expected. Somehow he couldn't remember ever owning that many possessions. Shelves lined all of the walls. All of his possessions were neatly ordered and labeled. His clothes were neatly hanging in the corner. He found the dark blue dress robes she always loved within moments of searching through the garments. They were still in excellent condition. Perhaps the room had some kind of stasis charm that prevented everything in it from growing old. Or maybe she had just simply charmed the room rid of moths.

He was surprised to find that she even kept all of his soaps and even his shaving kit. She really hadn't been lying when she said she threw nothing away. He unscrewed the lid to the shaving cream that smelled strongly of almonds and lime. Every time he used to use it she would snuggle up to him and take a deep whiff of his face. Once she admitted that the smell was as calming to her as smelling her lavender scented curls was to him. He ran a hand across the beard that he'd been wearing for several years. Maybe it was time to do something about it. Antonin spent the rest of the afternoon digging through his boxes of belongings searching for some family heirlooms that he had been unable to find in his vault the previous day. When the time for the wedding to begin grew closer, he carried his navy blue robes and his shaving kit back up the stairs to the guest bedroom to get ready.

* * *

Guests were already arriving when he Apparated back to the manor. The ceremony wasn't set to begin for almost another hour, but he couldn't bear to wander around the empty cottage any longer. He had always hated arriving late to events. His mother taught him it was bad manners and even at fifty-four years old, his mama's words still carried a lot of weight.

He was greeted at the gates by a nervous, but obviously happy groom and his miniature best man. Rodolphus pulled Rhys' hand away from his starched collar in a move almost identical to the boy's mother the night before. Both wizards smiled brightly at Antonin's arrival. Rhys rattled off a number of questions at top speed that Antonin found highly amusing. He would never be one to discourage a thirst for knowledge in the young. When he explained to Rhys how ancient runes were helpful in disarming the protective enchantments on an ancient burial tomb, Rodolphus forbid the boy from asking him anymore questions for the rest of the day. Reluctantly the boy agreed.

"Hermione is inside helping the bride get ready," Rodolphus explained without Antonin even having to ask.

"I assumed so."

"There are some refreshment tables set up in the gardens where the ceremony will be held. Please perform as little magic as possible. Many of Lizzie's relatives are Muggles."

Antonin shook the groom's hand and then shook his best man's hand. He felt a twinge of sympathy for the twelve year old boy. No doubt he would rather be just about anywhere else than receiving guests in the heat of the summer dressed in heavy robes. He crossed the expansive grounds at a leisurely pace. There was no reason to get in too much of a rush with plenty of time still left before the ceremony was set to begin.

He was surprised to see a number of guests already seated. A quick scan showed a heavily pregnant Reina Malfoy seated alone underneath a tree fanning herself with the wedding program. Antonin approached the large refreshments table to pick up two glasses of chilled pumpkin juice. Before he could get two steps away from the table, a woman he did not recognize stepped in front of him. Her eyes examined him from the top of his head to his feet.

"I would ask if you were here for the bride or the groom, but I can tell you are one of _them_."

Her tone wasn't malicious, only curious. Antonin felt suspiciously like a helpless fly being pulled into a spider's web. The stranger was an attractive woman in her early forties if he had to hazard a guess. Once upon a time he would've welcomed the attention. In that moment, however, he began to have disturbing flashbacks of Alecto Carrow.

"I'm Susan Fletcher, Liz's older sister," she declared. "Her older, more experienced, _single_ sister."

The feral grin that crossed her unnaturally red lips unnerved Antonin greatly. Maybe he should not have shaved his beard off before he came. It usually served to keep him hidden.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Fletcher. Antonin Dolohov."

"Oh, so formal, _Mr._ Dolohov," she teased. "How do you know the happy couple?"

"I've known Rod most of my life." He didn't want to speak to the woman any longer. She was a predator if he'd ever known one. "Actually, I very much hope that one day he will be my father-in-law."

The woman's face fell at his last statement.

"The plain little child with the ridiculous hair?" She laughed. "You could do so much better. You look like the kind of man who could appreciate a little experience."

"Madam, in your case, I doubt I would be getting a woman with a _little_ bit of experience."

She at least had the decency to look offended at his statement. He was glad. That was exactly how he meant it. How dare she insult his witch? She would never be a quarter of the woman Hermione was.

"You, sir, are no gentleman."

"And you, madam, are no lady."

The woman stormed away from him immediately. He hoped he hadn't caused a potential problem for later, but in that moment he was simply glad to be away from her. His eyes met a smiling Reina and he quickened his steps in her direction. He offered a glass of juice to the grateful witch.

"I thought that was you," she said gesturing to the empty chair next to hers. "When I saw that woman's angry expression, I just knew it was."

Antonin didn't even try to stifle his laughter at her remark. Reina smirked and leaned over as far as her extended belly would allow to kiss his cheek.

"We've all missed you, Antonin."

"Certainly you haven't _all_."

"What in Helga's name did you say to Liz's awful sister?" Reina asked, choosing to ignore his petulant remark.

"She insulted Hermione. I didn't care for what she had to say."

"I'm surprised you didn't curse her."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Rod asked me not to use magic around his in laws."

Reina's loud laughter put a smile back on Antonin's face. He had always thought the former Miss Rowle was beautiful, but somehow happiness and impending motherhood only served to increase her beauty. He hated thinking charitable thoughts about Lucius even after so many years had passed, but he could not deny he was a very lucky man.

"She was over here earlier asking me all kinds of impertinent questions. She asked me if I was a witch and when I told her I was, she asked me if I knew the father of my baby or did I get pregnant in some kind of magical orgy around a bonfire to ensure a fertile harvest?"

"I no longer feel the tiniest bit guilty about implying she was a slag."

"Antonin, you didn't!"

Her laughter grew loud enough to attract glances from a few of the other early wedding guests. Antonin joined in when the woman in question glared in their direction.

"I told her that the father was my wonderful husband of almost five years. She demanded I point him out as if I was lying. When I pointed to Lucius standing over there talking to the Minister and Ryan Sloane, she huffed and said it was no wonder why women her age couldn't find a husband when all of the handsome men her age were marrying little girls just out of the nursery. Then she stormed off to accost you."

"I'm certain her personality has more to do with her being unable to find a husband. Pity she is related to Elizabeth. She seems so different."

"Oh, she certainly is. Liz is wonderful, but all families have those members that just don't fit in. It's not always negative though. Take Ophelia Nott. She is incredibly sweet and lovely, but nothing like the rest of her family. Charlotte and their parents are all so gregarious and confident. Felia turns bright red at any attention sent her way and I would keel over dead if I ever heard her raise her voice."

Antonin bit his tongue to prevent pointing out that Reina herself was an oddity in her own family. More than once she'd been accused of being a fairy changeling.

"Ophelia told me earlier how they all but forced you to stay in your old cottage last night."

"They were rather insistent. I tried to tell Hermione I would get a hotel room, but she refused."

"Everyone means well. We all want Hermione to be happy. Some of the ladies can get a little aggressive in their matchmaking."

"Hermione took it all in stride. Almost as if it didn't bother her."

"Don't let this hard exterior she's created fool you, Antonin. It bothers her, but she's trying to pretend like it doesn't."

He didn't want to ask his next question, but he knew he had to and he knew Reina wouldn't lie to him.

"How is she, _really_?"

Reina sighed. She didn't seem anxious to answer. His mind travelled to all kinds of disturbing places. He knew how difficult life had been for him since he ran away. He could only imagine how she was affected.

"She's different, Antonin. Part of it is because of a broken heart she hasn't been quite able to heal completely. Part of it is because so many were vehemently against her adoption. She lost a lot of friends. It changed her. My brother didn't help matters either. She claims he didn't hurt her and that she was relieved when he left her, but I'm not an idiot.

"Their relationship was extremely unhealthy, Antonin. _Extremely_. Toxic, even. It's wonderful that they are friends now, but there was seriously a time when I wouldn't have been surprised at all to find out they exchanged deadly curses and one or both of them were dead."

"That bad?"

"She drinks too much. She tries to hide it, but she's not very good at keeping secrets. At least not from me anyway. Maybe I'm too nosy or maybe we're too close. I fear she spends too much time alone. Before I got pregnant this time, I made it a point to spend as much time with her as she would allow."

She placed her hand on her swollen belly.

"Because of my history, getting pregnant and _staying_ pregnant has not been easy. This pregnancy is extremely high risk. I shouldn't even be out of bed, but my healer said it would be all right to attend the ceremony if I stayed seated and in the shade the entire time. My priorities of the last several months have had to be with this baby. I'm afraid I haven't been a very good friend to Hermione lately."

Antonin placed his hand on top of hers and gently squeezed it for reassurance. A stray tear or two slipped out of the witch's eyes. He handed her a clean handkerchief.

"It sounds to me as if you've been a wonderful friend, Reina. I'm exceedingly grateful that you've been here for Hermione. I'm only sorry for my part in all of this. I should never have left."

"No, you absolutely shouldn't," she admonished. "How long are you staying?"

"If she said the word, I would never leave again."

She smiled.

"Then let us hope she says the right word. You have been missed, Antonin."

Their conversation ended soon after when Lucius returned to his lovely wife because the ceremony was due to begin any moment. Antonin shook Lucius' hand like they were old friends. Just for Reina's sake he would be polite that day. As the music grew louder and more and more guests were seated, Antonin could feel his heart begin to pound. Would he always feel this way when he knew he was going to see her? Would he always remind himself he needed to breathe at just the thought of being in the same room with her?

Rodolphus and Rhys took their places at the front with the official bonder. Antonin's old friend was positively radiant with joy. He was both extremely happy and profoundly envious of the man. Elizabeth was incorporating a number of Muggle traditions into the ceremony that Antonin found fascinating. Little Maddie walked down the aisle with an equally serious Alison Nott. Maggie Rowle held tightly to her little cousin Lucy's hand while dumping fistfuls of flowers petals onto the carpeted aisle. Lucy Nott was too awed by her surroundings to remember she was supposed to be dropping petals too. A laugh passed through all of the guests when an exuberant Jake sniffed his way down the aisle with his ring bearer's pillow charmed securely to his furry back.

Antonin's chest constricted at the sight of Hermione in her bright yellow maid of honor robes. It was perhaps not the most flattering of colors with her complexion, but he couldn't help but marvel at how beautiful she looked. That horrible woman was insane. There was _nothing_ plain about his witch. His eyes remained on Hermione long after the bride walked to the end of the aisle to meet her lovestruck groom.

Somewhere in the middle of the exchange of vows Hermione met his eyes across the assembled guests. He couldn't help but smile when he saw her cheeks flush slightly. She returned his smile with a small one of her own before turning her attention back to the ceremony. None of this exchange went unnoticed by Reina who flashed a knowing grin to her husband. Lucius smirked.

The ceremony was beautiful. Rodolphus and Elizabeth made a handsome couple. Antonin said his sincere goodbyes to the Malfoys once the guests were directed to the large white tent erected not far from the hedge maze for the reception. He spent the next few hours alternating between catching up with old acquaintances and sitting at a table in the dark corner just observing the action. Most of his observations were of Hermione to be sure. She was taking her dual roles of maid of honor and daughter of the groom very seriously. He wondered if she had stopped moving for longer than a few seconds since that day began. She greeted him once when he was engaged in a discussion about the number of times sixth year Hufflepuff prefect Elizabeth Fletcher caught first year Hufflepuff Ryan Sloane out of bed at Hogwarts, but she'd lingered only long enough to brush her hand against his elbow before running off to check on the cake.

Some time after the dancing began Antonin began to feel a bit antsy. He grabbed a fresh glass of whiskey and headed towards the hedge maze. A rather pleasant, if a bit frustrating, memory of an evening spent racing Hermione through the maze popped into his mind. He smirked to himself as he tried to remember how to navigate through the hedges. The closer he got to the center of the maze, the louder a quiet snuffling sound became. It was clear that someone was trying to stop crying and failing miserably. Ordinarily, he would turn to go in the opposite direction when faced with an upset female. Usually he didn't know how to help them. His instinct this time, however, was to keep walking towards the sound.

Hermione's yellow dress robes were bright in the enchanted lights within the center of the maze. She was seated on a bench with her back facing him. It tore at his heart to hear her crying again. He never wanted to hear that sound again. Hell, he never wanted her to even have a reason to cry. Hadn't she already suffered enough in her twenty-six years?

He remembered his mother's advice from long ago to always carry at least two clean handkerchiefs with him at all times because he might meet a young lady who needed one. Smiling at the thought, he removed his backup clean handkerchief from his pocket. His feet didn't make a single noise on the short walk to her bench. When he offered her the handkerchief over her shoulder, she gasped and spun around. Her shoulders sagged when she realized it was him.

"Thank you," she mumbled, removing the fabric from his hand.

"Are you all right, _daragaya_?"

Another sob stuck in her throat. Antonin rushed to sit next to her on the stone bench. Maybe if he'd given his actions more thought he wouldn't have wrapped his arm around the distraught witch to pull her to his chest. He had a nasty habit of always overthinking. That's how he let his remarkable witch go after all. Hermione sank into the embrace. He wrapped his other arm around her back to hold her closer. He couldn't resist nuzzling her curls with his cheek and his nose as he had done a thousand times before. The simple, familiar gesture only served to make her cry harder. He crooned to her in quiet Russian to help calm her.

Neither of them could be sure how long they remained seated on the bench in each other's arms. Long after her sobs ended certainly. When she finally pushed herself out of the embrace it was he could do to keep from pulling her back.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"You need never apologize to me for that, Hermione."

"You know, I thought I was doing all right. It's been six and a half years. I even managed to convince myself that I was over our past, but then you had to show back up here again and prove to me I wasn't."

So his suspicions about being the reason for her tears were accurate. He sighed. Would there ever come a day when he wouldn't continue to hurt the woman he loved?

"You just had to come back and put on my favorite robes and smell bloody fantastic and remind me that no matter how hard I try to forget you and move on with my life, I'm still not over you. It's fucking infuriating and I wish…"

He broke off her ramblings by covering her lips with his. The initial contact surprised them both, but the shock was over moment later when her lips began to move over his. She was the one to take the dominant role by invading his mouth. He literally groaned into her open mouth when their tongues touched. Somehow he'd forgotten how passionate a simple kiss could be. Her hands ran through his hair and his hands cupped her perfect arse as they snogged each other with six and a half years of pent up feelings. He was the one to finally break the embrace when his mind kept returning to the night they were both naked in the maze. If he didn't stop in that moment he was afraid he would lost all self-control. He never could think clearly around her.

"Wow," she said, carefully sliding off of his lap.

"My thoughts exactly, _daragaya_."

"At least we know we still have chemistry."

He laughed a loud, booming laugh at her statement.

"Of that there is no doubt," he agreed.

She rose to her feet, a slight blush across her cheeks.

"I should head back. Rod and Liz are probably leaving soon. They're going away for a couple of days. They will go on their proper honeymoon when Rhys is back at Hogwarts."

He watched her disappear back through the maze. After giving his body a few minutes to come back under control, he stood up, adjusted his robes and followed her same path to the outside. The reception was winding down. Many guests were already leaving. He shook Theo's hand on his way out. The littlest flower girl was fast asleep in her father's arms. Ryan wished him a good evening and Minister Shacklebolt was even magnanimous enough to shake his hand. The Rowles had already left some time when he was alone with Hermione in the maze. Only the Lestranges were left of people present he actually cared about.

Antonin plucked another glass of whiskey off a floating tray. His eyes searched the area for his witch. A short scan found her speaking in quiet tones with Rodolphus. He had concern etched all over his face and Antonin didn't even have to imagine the topic of their discussion. Rodolphus pulled his adopted daughter into his arms and kissed the top of her head. Within moments both were smiling and laughing.

"I know I don't know you very well, Antonin," Elizabeth said quietly at his side. "But it's easy to tell that you still love her."

"Yes, I do. Very much."

"She still loves you even if she tries to deny it even to herself. I love her as one of my own, so I fear I have to warn you that if you ever hurt her again, this mum will be your worst nightmare."

Elizabeth leaned up to kiss his cheek. They were joined moments later by Rodolphus and Hermione.

"I can't find Jake. Would it be all right if I left him here tonight?" Hermione asked.

"Of course," Elizabeth answered for her new husband. "We have a garden gnome infestation in the south corner of the estate. I imagine he's having fun there right now."

The newlyweds left their reception only minutes later. Antonin stood next to Hermione to watch them go. As soon as they were through the gates, Hermione yawned. She tried to hide it with her hand, but the damage was done.

"What time did you leave the cottage this morning?" he asked.

"A little after six," she mumbled.

"That's what I assumed. You must take better care of yourself, _daragaya_."

He grasped her hand in his and headed for the gates. She attempted to resist at first, but he was determined. Once they reached the gates, he wrapped an arm around her waist and Apparated them both back to the cottage.

"Now, you are going to take a long, hot bath and then you are going to bed."

She smiled at his authoritative tone. It was one she hadn't heard in years.

"And what if I don't want to do as you say?" she teased.

"Then I might have to follow you in there to make sure you do as I told you."

"Be careful." Her voice was low with just a hint of sultry. "I would probably enjoy that. I seem to remember quite a few enjoyable baths we took together."

"As undeniably tempting as that offer is, we should not rush into anything we might regret."

Antonin kissed the top of her head. He carefully turned her body away from his until she was facing the front door. With a light tap on her arse, he pushed her towards the entrance. Once they were both inside their former shared home, Hermione went straight to her bedroom with a sulking expression on her face. Antonin removed his outer robes and his heavy boots before lying down on the long sofa.

He must have dozed off because the sound of the master bedroom door opening jarred him awake. His hand was halfway to his wand when a vision in a plain, white bathrobe stepped in front of him. Antonin felt his stomach (and other parts further south) lurch the moment Hermione began untying the flimsy belt holding the garment together.

"I just spent a lot of time thinking in the bathtub just now."

She untied the belt. The garment swung open revealing she had nothing on underneath. Her hands reached up to tug the garment off of her shoulders. The robe pooled at her feet completely exposing herself to the man lying on the couch in danger of having a heart attack.

"I would be more likely to regret letting you go back to that cold, empty bed upstairs than I would regret inviting you into mine."

* * *

July 16, 2006

Antonin woke abruptly to the feeling that he was being smothered. Panicked at first, it only took him a few moments to realize he had inadvertently inhaled a great deal of Hermione's hair in his sleep. It was a hazard of sharing a bed with her that he'd forgotten over the years. With a contented smile stretched across his handsome features, he repositioned his arms to be full of warm, sleeping, naked witch.

The previous night still felt like a dream even if he was aching in muscles he hadn't used properly in years. In his wildest fantasies, he never imagined a night as full of passion as the night before. They were still awake when the sun began to peek over the horizon. He would have been content to lie in the exact same position for days.

Some time in the afternoon they were both awake and staring at each other. A bit of the magic from the night before had worn off. They were facing the harsh reality of their actions.

"What happens now?" she finally asked to break the silence.

"I really don't know, _lyubimaya_. What do you want to happen now?"

"I know that I still love you, Antonin. Very much. But I don't know where we go from here. Do we start over? Do we behave as if the last almost seven years never happened? What do you want?"

"Honestly? I could spend the rest of my life in bed with you and die a very, happy man."

"You hurt me, Antonin, and I'm afraid to trust you with my heart again."

He crossed the small distance between them to gently kiss her lips.

"I understand and I would never want to force you to do something you weren't sure about."

He ran his hand through her curls.

"Let's just enjoy this lazy Sunday," he suggested. "We won't think or talk about anything too serious. In the morning I will go back to San Francisco. You take an entire month to think over what you want. Do some research. Make some color coded charts."

She snorted.

"Then at the end of the month you tell me if you want a future with me."

"What if I don't?"

He kissed her softly once more.

"Then we will deal with that when it happens."

They spent the rest of that day ignoring the outside world and forgetting the past.

* * *

August 16, 2006

The month since leaving his old cottage in Cornwall was without a single doubt, the longest month of Antonin's life. Part of him wished that he'd forced Hermione to make her decision that blissful day they spent entirely in bed. He had zero doubts anymore about what he wanted. He wanted to marry Hermione, plain and simple, and raise a family in their beloved seaside cottage.

He was spending a rare day inside the bank itself on the last day of their month. Despite his best efforts not to, he was extremely distracted. More than once he had to start his diagnostic charms over again because his mind was elsewhere. Finally, when a large international owl burst into the bank, he almost succeeded in cursing one of his wizard coworkers with an extra pair of ears. The man thought it best at that point to assist another coworker with his mind on his work.

Antonin ripped the small piece of parchment from the owl's leg without delay. Offended by his abrupt behavior, the owl cuffed Antonin in the bead with his massive wing before flying off to find his own meal. His hands were shaking when he unrolled the parchment.

 _Please come home._

Three little words had never looked sweeter. He ignored his startled coworkers as he rushed towards the head goblin's office. Few had ever seen Cursebreaker Dolohov crack a smile before, let alone laugh out loud with an almost manic grin on his face. One knock on the door was all it took before Alguff bellowed for him to enter.

"Yes, Dolohov?" Alguff was always a goblin of few words.

"I wish to tender my resignation immediately."

Alguff raised a single bushy eyebrow.

"Have you found employment elsewhere?"

"No, I'm moving back to England today."

"Do you have another job waiting for you there?"

"Not yet."

"Don't be foolish. There's a position open in the London branch. I was recently asked if it might be something you would be interested in, but I told them 'no'. Until today you've shown no interest in returning and the position involves almost no travelling. You would be working at least ninety percent of the time in the London branch during regular banking hours. I assumed you would not be interested."

A bright smile crossed Antonin's face. It would be perfect. Alguff narrowed his eyes to reevaluate his subordinate of five years.

"Should I floo London and tell them you will be there Monday morning?"

Antonin shook the goblin's outstretched hand and thanked him profusely. He hadn't even considered what he would do once he returned to his home. A part of him knew he wouldn't be happy living off of his wife's money, but he assumed he wouldn't have a choice in the beginning. Everything was fitting into place.

Only a few boxes needed to be packed from his flat. Very little of his belongings accumulated in California would be going home with him. He shrunk the boxes to fit in the pocket of his trousers and headed directly to the International Portkey office of the American Department of Magic. After a few forms were filled out and a few galleons handed over, he was hurtling through the atmosphere to his home.

Four hours maximum had passed before he stood in front of his front door again. He knocked once and pushed it open. The time was after midnight. He wouldn't have been surprised to catch her asleep.

He was only three steps inside before a tiny witch threw herself into his arms. They wasted no time in removing their clothes and recreating the moment they first came together on the floor of their living room. It was when he picked up his little witch to carry her to their bedroom that he noticed a slight green tinge to her complexion and a worried expression on her countenance. Immediately he feared the worst.

"What's wrong?"

"I have something to tell you, but I don't know if you will want to hear it or not."

Surely she couldn't have been having second thoughts already? They had just had some of the most passionate sex they had ever had right there in the same spot they once had. Only this time there wasn't a senior Ministry official tied up in the cellar. He carefully set her back down on her feet.

"Hermione, _what's wrong_?"

She covered her face with her hands and burst into loud tears. If she was speaking English through her tears, he couldn't understand a word. Whatever was wrong was serious. He carefully pried her hands off of her face. Placing two fingers under her chin, he tenderly forced her eyes up to meet his.

"I hadn't been with anyone in so long that I didn't even think about taking a potion and remember everything happened so fast that night that neither of us even thought about casting a charm. And then the next day my mind was mostly focused on whether we should be together and fuck, I'd forgotten what you could do with your tongue when properly motivated."

Her babbling rarely failed to elicit a smile from him. She was so bloody adorable and he usually got to kiss her when she was in that form. Slowly pieces of what she was attempting to tell him began to fall into place. He could hardly breathe. If she was trying to tell him what he thought she was trying to tell him, then this would easily be the best day of his entire life.

" _Lyubimaya_ , what are you trying to tell me?"

"This morning, after I sent you the message to come home, I got sick. I didn't think too much of it, but I've been feeling a bit queasy all day. I was scared that I was getting the flu or something and I didn't want you to get sick when you came home, so I went to St. Mungo's. A healer ran some spells and…"

She paused. He could hardly stand the suspense. Did she not understand what she was doing to his nerves? This was better than having to wait for Christmas morning as a child.

"And she confirmed that I'm pregnant."

He burst out laughing at the announcement. When she realized that his reaction was one of intense joy, she had a small smile of her own. Antonin pulled her body up against his and kissed her soundly.

"I didn't want you to think that I was trapping you or that I did this on purpose."

"Marry me, Hermione."

"What?"

"Marry me! Right now. We can go straight to the Ministry and get married."

"Antonin, it's the middle of the night. And we're naked!"

The logistics of why they would need to wait made sense. He picked his little witch up and carried her to their bedroom with more care than he had ever carried anything in his life. They spent most the night alternating between making love and planning for their future.

They were married the next day in the Ministry of Magic with the bride's father and stepmother as the overjoyed witnesses.

* * *

April 13, 2007

Mikhail Harry Dolohov was born in the early morning hours on the thirteenth of April. Named for his two uncles that he would unfortunately never have the pleasure to meet, he was the spitting image of his father with only his nose proving he belonged to his mother. A large, extended family waited patiently for the arrival of little Misha. His doting grandfather and his enamored papa were reluctant to hand him over when anyone else wanted to hold him.

He was joined in fairly quick succession over the next few years by a sister that looked just like their mother, a little brother that looked just like him and a baby sister that resembled his Russian grandmother that none of them would ever get to meet. The unfinished rooms upstairs in their cottage were opened and no longer empty.

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September 1, 2018

Antonin had been both looking forward to and dreading this day since the moment Misha was born. While he was anxious for his eldest to learn how to be a wizard, he was not ready to send him off to school. It had been a difficult week leading up to the day. His wife had cried in the privacy of their bedroom more than once.

Because the first day of September fell on a Saturday that year, there had been no problem ensuring that the entire family would be available to see him off. His grandparents had already promised to meet them on the platform that morning. Liz's daughter Madeline left Hogwarts the year before, but the Rowles, the Malfoys and the Notts all had children young enough to still be heading off to school with him. Antonin reminded his emotional wife of that fact repeatedly. Theo's son was even going to be in the same year. They were already close friends. It would make the separation from their parents easier.

When he finished dressing for the day, he exited the bedroom straight into the kitchen. Rosie was standing at the stove cooking up a feast for the entire family. He had come to an understanding with the ancient elf over the years. She wouldn't order him about in his own home and she was welcome to visit 'her babies' whenever she wanted. Hermione stood at the counter next to her favorite elf fixing a pot of tea. Even after twelve years of marriage his stomach filled with butterflies whenever he saw her. Especially when she stared up at him with a bright smile on her face.

He kissed her straight on the mouth to the general giggles and disgust of the children seated at the kitchen table. Antonin followed to kiss the curly head of his eldest daughter Livvie, then his younger son William's head and then finally his eldest. Misha was at that age when he felt that he was too old for affection from his parents. He was a young man after all at age eleven. Antonin ruffled his hair when the younger version of himself tried to flinch away from the kiss.

"Where's Mira?" he asked, noticing the littlest of the group was nowhere to be found.

" _Your_ daughter is missing," Hermione answered with a smile. Their youngest was the child that was always in the most trouble. His wife teased him for being a bad influence. "Said that she was going to run away."

Antonin had a suspicion that he knew exactly where to find the five year old girl who reminded him so much of his mother at times it was almost eerie. There were times that she would look at him with an expression that was so similar to his mama's that he was almost convinced she was the first Mira Dolohov reincarnated. He stepped out into the back garden through the door that had been added in the kitchen years earlier.

"Mira?"

He heard a rustling in his potions ingredients garden at the call of her name. Only a few strides of his long legs brought him to where the baby of the family was attempting to hide behind a tall plant. Antonin was familiar with her theatrics. He sat down on the bench on the edge of the garden facing her hiding place.

"Come out, _kotyonok_. We're all very worried about you."

A tiny, black haired head popped up amongst the plants. Carefully stepping around her papa's plants, Mira Dolohov slowly approached her father. Antonin reached out for the littlest member of his family the moment she was within arm's reach. Once she was settled on his lap, he dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

"Why are you running away, _kotyonok_?"

"I don't want Misha to leave."

Antonin snuggled his little girl tighter at his confession. He'd been so concerned over the past few weeks about how his wife and his son was dealing with his impending departure to boarding school, that he hadn't even thought about how it would affect his younger siblings. He was remiss in that, of course.

"Now that's not very nice of you, Mira," he gently admonished the girl.

Her dark brown eyes widened and shot up to stare into his almost identical ones. She didn't seem to understand how she wasn't being nice.

"Don't you want Misha to grow up to be a powerful wizard like your papa?"

She nodded her head.

"Then he has to go to school. That's where he will learn it all. One day when you are bigger you will go there too."

Mira laid her head on his chest and sighed. Antonin couldn't suppress his smile.

"I'm going to miss him, papa."

"I'm going to miss him too, _kotyonok_ ," he whispered. "But he will be home soon for Christmas. Think about all the stories he will have to tell you when he gets back. And you will have stories to tell him too."

She sighed again. Antonin kissed her head one more time before setting her back on her feet.

"Now, please go get whatever you hid over there in the garden."

Her eyes widened again. She still hadn't learned how it was that her papa seemed to know everything. Mira returned to her hiding spot. She had her hands held behind her back when she approached her father again. Reluctantly she showed him the stolen wand she had in her hand. It was one of those moments as a parent that he struggled to keep a stern expression on his countenance. He desperately wanted to laugh.

"Mira, you know that you are _never_ supposed to touch someone else's wand."

"Yes, papa," she mumbled.

"Now come on inside. Rosie made breakfast and you need to return Misha's wand."

He remained in the garden for a few minutes longer to laugh at his youngest child's antics. In moments like that, he could hardly believe how different his life used to be. How had he spent so many years alone? It was encouraging for him to remember that he would never have to rediscover what that was like again. Wiping the laughter off of his face, he stepped back into this kitchen to enjoy the last family breakfast they would all have together for several months.

* * *

July 1, 2020

Reina Malfoy's prediction years earlier that it wouldn't be until the grandchildren of the Resistance members and the grandchildren of the repentant Death Eaters were born that the two groups would ever reconcile their differences turned out to be false. No one believed that the two groups would ever mingle while the original fighters in the war were still alive.

Not until Maggie Rowle disappeared for an entire week after she left Hogwarts at the end of her seventh year. Her family, especially her overprotective father, was worried about her. None of them knew where she could have possibly disappeared to. The worst was feared. Up and down the country, they searched for their missing daughter.

When she suddenly reappeared on her parents' front door with her new husband, a wizard named Frank Aberforth Longbottom, Britain's wizarding society witnessed a miracle. The two children of longstanding rivals fell in love while attending Hogwarts together. Neville's son left Hogwarts a few years before Maggie. They would sneak off to Hogsmeade without any of their parents' knowledge.

Charlotte Rowle and Hannah Longbottom understood that they would have to put their differences aside for their children's happiness. The two women formed a fast friendship, hoping their husbands might follow their example. Thorfinn and Neville could barely stand to be in the same room together. Insults were often hurled in each other's directions. More than once a family meal had been interrupted with flying curses from the recalcitrant fathers.

They managed to create a tentative truce two years later when their first grandchild was born. By their third grandchild less than ten years later, the two men were able to sit over a glass of fire whiskey without insulting the other. When their first grandchild left Hogwarts, they were finally on friendly terms. It had only taken forty years.

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August 23, 2031

"Are you absolutely sure about this, _milaya moya_? We can turn around right now."

"Papa…"

"You don't have to go through with this. You can come back and live with your mum and me."

"Papa…"

"Are you sure he's good enough for you?"

"Papa, stop!"

Antonin smirked to his eldest daughter Livvie. She was glaring daggers at him. Even with her sour, annoyed expression he was certain that she had never looked more beautiful. They were standing at the end of the aisle waiting for the processional music to begin.

"You're only twenty-three, _zhizn moya_. Are you certain you've met _all_ of the eligible wizards?"

"Papa, please. If you haven't talked me out of this in the past six months, you won't be able to now."

Livvie was every bit as stubborn as her mother. And just like her mother, she had also decided to fall in love with a man her parents did not approve of. Or at least her father did not approve of. Her mother thought Finn Malfoy was the sweetest wizard she'd ever met. It didn't hurt that he was the only child of her best friend Reina. Hermione had been overjoyed when they had announced their engagement. Antonin could only see every birthday and holiday for the rest of his life being spent in Lucius' company.

Truthfully, he liked Finn. He was the right match for his headstrong daughter. They would be excellent partners. He simply enjoyed teasing his daughter especially considering he couldn't believe she was old enough to be a bride.

Later that night when he was dancing with his wife to celebrate the second of their children to marry, he struggled to keep his emotions under control. Hermione understood all too well the moments he had infrequently. They were lingering effects of too many years spent having all happiness and joy sucked out of him from dementors. He struggled believing that his life was not a figment of his demented mind at times. Once he had a fear that he was still stuck in the freezing cell and his beautiful wife and children were not real, but simply something he constructed in his mind to keep the dementors at bay.

Hermione placed both of her slim hands on each of his cheeks. She forced his eyes to meet hers. Even with streaks of gray nestled amongst her wild curls, he had yet to see a more beautiful woman. With soft whispers of assurances, he slowly came back to himself. These moments usually only happened when he was experiencing intense joy. The first time it happened was only days after they brought Misha home from St. Mungo's. He stood over his crib and sobbed, fearing that he was losing his mind. Hermione had somehow understood exactly what he needed.

"I'm sorry, _lyubimaya_ ," he whispered, allowing her to wipe the tears from his cheeks. "I forgot there for a moment."

She leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss her wizard. He wrapped his arms around her slightly plumper figure. She was his anchor.

"You need never apologize to me for that, my love," she replied.

"It was a nice ceremony," he said, desperate to move their attention to something, anything else.

"Yes, it was. Our daughter is the prettiest bride I've ever seen even with the last minute adjustments we had to make on her dress."

He recognized her smirk as the one she had when she knew a particularly juicy secret.

"What do you know, my darling?"

"I know that by Easter you are going to be a grandfather."

So it was already too late to turn around when they were standing at the end of the aisle. At least three months late if his quick calculations were correct.

"I assumed Misha would give us our first grandchild."

"It's not a competition, Antonin. Babies come when they come."

"You're not about to spring some revelation on me about Mira next, are you? I'm not sure my almost eighty year old heart can take it."

Hermione giggled like the schoolgirl she hadn't been in almost thirty five years. She deftly maneuvered his form so he could see where their eighteen year old daughter, fresh out of Hogwarts, was dancing a little too closely to Hal Rowle. They were entirely too close, if Antonin had anything to say about it.

"He's at least twelve years older than her!"

"Twelve is a lot less than twenty-eight," his wife kindly reminded him.

"But he's a Rowle! I know Thorfinn is one of your best friends…"

"Yours too."

"But is it not bad enough that Livvie just became a _Malfoy_? At least Misha married one of the Yaxley girls and Will is still dating Gregory's youngest daughter. I can support _those_ relationships, but _Mira Rowle_? I don't like it."

Hermione leaned up to kiss her husband once more. Twenty-five years of marriage later and she could still silence all of his worries with a single kiss. He would fret about his daughters' abysmal taste in young wizards later. In that moment, he had the most gorgeous woman in his arms. He was going to focus on nothing else.

* * *

 _Author's Note: It is so bittersweet to finish a story I've been working on for months. It almost makes me want to cry. Hopefully, all of your expectations were met. I've loved this story immensely._

 _There are several stories I have in the works. Parolee and His Princess will be the story I focus the most on next. I'm already a little besotted with that one. I have a Hermione/Kingsley story outlined and ready to start soon. It is called The Minister's Secret. (I know, I know, it sounds a little strange. Just imagine Kingsley is Idris Elba. That helps me. Yummy!) Add me to your Author Alerts if you are interested in that or any of the about a dozen (literally) stories I have bouncing around in my head._

 _Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with this story! Your reviews, favorites and follows have meant more to me than I can express!_


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